Ties That Bind
by Mizvoy
Summary: Complete! Whoever said what you don't know can't hurt you wasn't a writer. J and C discover that an erased past can devastate the future. J & C friendship, C7
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Starfleet, Voyager, and the characters used here are the property of CBS Studios. No profit is being made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

**A/U Note:** I've heard it said that Janeway's love interest in "Workforce" was originally going to be Chakotay. Many J/C fans wish that the relationship would have happened, thinking that they would stay together once they returned to the ship. I decided to explore that possibility--what would happen if J/C were together on Quarra. However, I've made three major changes.

First: In this story, since Chakotay is one of the crew members trapped on Quarra during "Workforce,"the characters who rescue them are Seven of Nine and Tuvok (who were on an away mission) and the EMH (who was left behind on the ship, as in the original episode).

Second: The crew does not retain their memories once they have returned to the ship, and their captivity lasts six months (you'll see why), much longer than it did in the episode. We pick up the action just after the a/u "Workforce" has ended, about three and a half months before "Endgame" brings about Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant.

Third: The story required me to fiddle with timing of the Torres/Paris pregnancy, as well, making it begin on Quarra and effectively ditching the Miral Paris episodes that preceded "Workforce" in Season Seven. Sorry.

**Summary**: Whoever said "what you don't know can't hurt you" wasn't a writer. J and C discover that an erased past can devastate the future. J and C friendship only, and a C/7 warning!

**Ties that Bind**

(an Alternate Universe story following "Workforce")

by mizvoy

**About one week after "Workforce"**

Kathryn Janeway was struggling to feel at home on Voyager.

She could tell from the condition of the ship that it had been neglected for far too long, mothballed in a nebula during the crew's six-month captivity on Quarra. The most essential maintenance tasks had been performed by the three remaining members of the crew: Tuvok, the Emergency Medical Hologram, and Seven of Nine. But, in spite of knowing that on a logical level, Janeway couldn't remember being away from the ship, at all; it was as if she had awakened like Rip Van Winkle to find that everything had changed except herself.

As the captain, she had been one of the first of the crew that had been brought back from their captivity, and she had thrown herself into the task of restoring the ship to normal as a way of ignoring the gnawing worry she felt about her missing memories. She took great satisfaction in seeing the crew working together smoothly, spending long hours below decks working side-by-side with others who were just as befuddled and distressed as she was about what had happened.

In the forty-eight hours since she'd been "herself," the doctor had restored the memories of over one hundred of the crew, and now that the captain could see that headway was being made on the ship's restoration, she was even more anxious to keep the momentum going and put the whole experience behind her. When the doctor requested a meeting halfway through the third day, Janeway was aggravated at having to take any time away from the task of repairing the emitters in holodeck two. She intended to dispense with whatever was bothering him and return to her work as quickly as possible.

"Doctor," she began, gazing steadily at the hologram seated to her right at the conference room table, "we all have too much work to do to waste time talking about our health."

"This won't take long," he assured her. He glanced at Chakotay and Tuvok, who were sitting on Janeway's left, gauging the level of their irritation before he continued. Tuvok was emotionless, of course. Chakotay was simply curious. Only the captain seemed annoyed by the interruption. "I've come across an issue we need to address at once, before much more time elapses."

Chakotay leaned forward, his face full of concern. "Have you discovered a medical problem with the crew?"

"Yes, Commander, I have, but only with a select few." His eyes slid to Tuvok, who still registered no reaction to the news. "We informed you that there were long-term relationships established while the crew was living on the planet."

"Yes, of course, you mentioned that to us," Janeway interrupted, struggling to repress her urge to protest. Of all the complications their captivity had caused, this one bothered her the most, both professionally and personally. She had noticed telltale signs that made her think she had been in an intimate relationship, yet she had no idea who her partner had been, or even if he'd been from among Voyager's crew. The mystery of this nameless lover frightened her so much that, for once in her life, she preferred to remain blissfully ignorant of the details, a feeling that she shared with most of the rest of the crew. So far, everyone seemed anxious to return to the "status quo ante" and ignore what they'd done while on the planet's surface.

Chakotay's calm voice soothed her frazzled nerves. "I thought that the plan was to allow the crew to decide whether or not to be informed of these relationships. I thought, for now, we'd decided to leave them 'forgotten,' in the past, while we focus on becoming comfortable in our restored lives." He glanced at Janeway, who was nodding her head in agreement. "At this point, none of us is ready to deal with repercussions of relationships that were formed in a forgotten existence."

"I agree, Commander. What we did while our personalities and memories were altered has nothing to do with who we really are," Janeway declared. "I think it's best to put Quarra behind us for good and simply return to the people we were before they kidnapped us."

The doctor frowned, "A defensible decision psychologically, at least for now. It's difficult enough to reclaim your own identities without having to deal with new and unexpected relationships."

"It might be that the entire crew chooses never to discover who they were involved with," Janeway added, knowing that she, for one, would rather never know. She had enough complications in her life without muddying the water any further.

"That's true," the doctor agreed. "However, there are six individuals who returned to Voyager with an unexpected complication."

Janeway swallowed. She had a pretty good idea what she was about to hear, and she dreaded hearing it. "I'm afraid to ask."

"You know that B'Elanna and Tom were together on the planet, just as they had been on Voyager, and that she became pregnant during their captivity."

"Of course. We're all thrilled for them," Janeway replied, gripping her hands on the tabletop to keep them from trembling. "The prospect of a new baby will help our morale immensely."

"However, I haven't told you that five human females were also pregnant when they returned to the ship," the doctor answered. "All in the very early stages of pregnancy."

"What?" Janeway stood up, her stomach threatening to reject the dry toast she'd eaten for breakfast. "How could that happen? Weren't all of us up to date on birth control when we were taken from the ship?"

"Yes, of course," the doctor assured her. "However, the last birth control boosters I administered to the crew became ineffective about five months after you were captured. By that time, many of you were involved with someone."

Janeway frowned. "Wouldn't the Quarrans have provided birth control?"

"They did, if the couple requested it. Apparently, a few crew members decided not to take precautions," the doctor replied. "They probably felt secure enough in their jobs and settled enough in their relationships to want to start a family."

Janeway sat down heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose to counteract the sudden pain that blossomed behind her eyes. "Yes. I guess that's possible." The room was silent as she and her primary advisors thought about how this complication would impact the crew. Finally, she turned to the doctor with a sigh, "Have you informed these women of their condition?"

"No, Captain, I haven't." He was clearly troubled by this omission. "The memory restoration process was potentially dangerous to the embryos' development, so I removed them and put them in stasis during the process. They're still in stasis."

"And you haven't told the mothers?" Janeway asked. "Why not?"

"My thought was that such life-altering news might complicate the mothers' adjustment to her previous life. It's highly unlikely that any of the women were aware of their pregnancies when we rescued them, and, of course, they wouldn't remember now. Except for some discomfort that they could easily blame on their return to 'normal,' the women have no way of knowing that they were pregnant. They will never know unless we tell them."

"And what about the fathers?" Chakotay wondered. "Do you know who the fathers are?"

"Not yet, Commander," the doctor replied. "However, I did a simple DNA scan, which told me that the fathers are human and therefore members of the crew."

Tuvok spoke up. "So the infants are totally human?"

"Yes, they are, which simplifies the situation." The EMH raised an eyebrow. "I'm quite certain that we are not separating a child from its father, nor are we faced with any unusual interspecies complications during gestation."

"Simplifies the situation?" Janeway slumped in her chair in despair, the headache firmly lodged behind her right eye. "I don't see anything simple about this, doctor. We have five women and five men who were different people inside their own bodies, making decisions in a different setting that they are now going to have to address in their real lives."

"Why can't we just leave the embryos in stasis?" Tuvok asked. "I'm aware of many couples who have stored embryos for years."

"That's a much different situation," Chakotay disagreed. "Those couples want to have a child together at a later date. But I'm guessing that the relationship between these people didn't exist while they were on the ship. Is that right, doctor?"

"I haven't scanned the embryos sufficiently to determine anything other than the father's species," the doctor replied. "However, Tuvok, Seven, and I became aware of several pairings among the crew while we were on the surface. If the fathers were these women's companions, then I can say without a doubt that they were not couples on Voyager before their capture."

Janeway's temper flared. "I can't believe that the Quarrans meddled in our lives like this. How dare they do this to us?" She turned in her chair and stared blindly out the window as she regained control of her emotions. "Which of you three are aware of these couples?"

"All three of us who rescued the crew: Seven of Nine, Tuvok, and myself," the doctor replied. "We agreed at the time to keep the existence of these relationships private."

Janeway sighed, telling herself that these three members of the crew could keep the secret better than any others, yet she found herself squirming in her seat, and glanced at Chakotay with exasperation. "Is it just me? Do you find this objectionable?"

"There's a lot about this whole captivity that leaves me unsettled," he admitted. "As you said, it's as if someone else took over our bodies, and now we're left to deal with the fallout of their actions." He shifted in his seat to look at two of the three members of the crew who had knowledge of their liaisons on Quarra.

"Do Seven and Tuvok know which women were pregnant?" Janeway asked.

"No, they don't. I haven't told anyone who those women are. Nor have I implied that the women who were pregnant were the ones who were in a more permanent relationship on Quarra." He frowned, obviously troubled. "Captain, I don't know how these women would feel about this pregnancy or the prospect of single parenthood. At any rate, before they deal with this obstacle, they need to feel at home in their real lives."

Janeway sighed again, wondering if she would ever feel at home in her "real life." She shook her head. "We have to have to tell the women about their condition. We can't escape that, can we?" Janeway glanced around the room. "What are our options?"

Tuvok spoke first. "We could simply destroy the embryos. They are not, as yet, individuals with rights under Federation law, and their conceptions came about because of alien interference. They clearly were not 'meant to be.'"

Janeway gritted her teeth. "I dislike that choice. Whether or not the parents want the babies now, we have to assume that they wanted them at the time of their conception. And they do have rights, in my opinion, no matter what Federation law says. They should have a chance to live."

"If we tell the women about the pregnancies," Tuvok said, "they might be interested in carrying the child."

"And if they aren't interested in carrying it?" Janeway wondered, a sick feeling in her stomach. If one of the babies was hers, would she want to carry it to term? Could she take the chance of a pregnancy when she lived under the continuous stress and the imminent danger she faced every day as the captain? She had precious little time to be friends with a few chosen members of her senior staff, had no off duty time away from the ship, and was constantly harassed by the doctor about her health.

"Let's see," Tuvok said, lacing his fingers in front of him. "We could survey the ten crew members directly involved and ask them how they feel about the possibility of parenting a child. They could make one of two choices--either to terminate their parental rights or accept them. If both parents accept their rights, then the embryo can be re-implanted and they can work out a way to share their duties. If both parents terminate their rights, the embryos should be destroyed."

Chakotay asked, "But what if only one parent accepts the baby? That child should be allowed to live, shouldn't it?"

Janeway narrowed her eyes. "If it's the mother who decides to keep the child, she can carry the baby. But what would happen if the father wants the child and the mother doesn't?"

"Maybe there would be women from the crew who are willing to volunteer as surrogate mothers," Chakotay suggested.

"And then turn the babies over to the fathers?" Janeway wondered, struggling to grasp the complexities of the situation. "The babies would be the sole responsibility of the father for the rest of their lives?"

"I think that's only fair, don't you?" Chakotay replied. "The mother would have severed her rights."

She stood up and looked out the conference room windows, so worried about this thorny ethical issue that she'd forgotten about the compromised state of her ship. "What if there are no women to be surrogates?"

The doctor volunteered, "We could have them carried by non-human volunteers, although I would have to monitor the pregnancy more carefully."

Janeway wasn't happy. "Are there any other options?"

"We could attempt to build an external maturation chamber, similar to the technologies we've seen used by the Borg," the doctor suggested.

"So far, the surrogate option appeals to me the most," Chakotay said. "I don't like the idea of a child being nurtured inside a machine."

"Neither do I, if it's even possible. However, I think the parents are the ones who should decide this." Janeway leaned against the window sill and crossed her arms over her chest. "I also think that the identities of these parents should be kept private, at first. If a man or woman decides not to parent a child, no one else needs to know about it."

Chakotay nodded. "We'll need some time, all of us, to decide which option is the best course of action. In a few weeks, once everyone is back to normal, I suggest we announce this to the crew and allow them to think it through before we notify the parents."

"Do we notify all of the crew, or just the humans?" the doctor asked. "Remember that these babies are totally human in heritage."

"We should inform all of the crew at first," Janeway answered. "Because of their unique origin, these are truly 'Voyager's babies.' And, besides, whatever happens to the babies will affect every member of the crew in some way."

"I'll prepare a briefing and let you review it in advance, Captain." The doctor stood. "Personally, I think having more children on the ship would make life much more 'normal' for the crew."

"Well, 'normal' has never been a word that I felt applied to Starfleet service," Janeway said with a sigh. "Let's plan to announce this problem in about two weeks. That will give us time to get the ship in better shape and settle back into our routines. Before then, I'd like to meet again and discuss any further concerns that occur to us."

With a nod, the three men left the conference room, and Janeway, distracted and troubled by the sudden complication, returned to her work with renewed enthusiasm.

**Later the same day**

That night, however, Janeway found sleep impossible. After spending a restless hour in bed, she finally gave up, replicated a cup of chamomile tea, and sat down to watch the stars. One moment, she considered asking the doctor to tell her if she was one of the mothers and, if so, to inform her of the father's identity. And then a moment later, she didn't want to know, not now, not ever. Back and forth, her mind moved restlessly as it pondered the problem.

Could she really reject her own child? She knew that motherhood would be totally impossible in her current circumstances. Her work and her responsibilities made a private life impossible and would keep her from being a decent mother. Wouldn't they? She barely had an hour a day for her own private needs; how would she ever be able to handle the demands of a child? She would need a dedicated partner to help her.

That thought reminded her of the father--a human male under her command, for God's sake. If she was one of the women who was pregnant, that meant that the woman called Kathryn Janeway on Quarra had loved this man deeply enough to have a child with him. In her real life, she might not know him as anything other than a familiar face, a vaguely recognized member of the rank-and-file. He could be someone like Tefler or, dear God, Mortimer Herron.

There would be inevitable complications in a liaison between the captain and a crewman from the lower decks. Could she treat him as an equal in quarters and then step into a command relationship on the bridge? She didn't think so. And, if she gave up the child and this man didn't, could she allow him to nurture and teach her baby without the chance to give it her own ethics and values?

The chances were good that if she terminated her parental rights, the father would have a surrogate carry it. How would she cope with having her child carried by another woman? How would she react to seeing her own child later on? Wouldn't she want it to know its family heritage? Could she ignore a child who looked exactly like her sister or her father and not acknowledge it? Nurture it? Revel in its existence?

As difficult as this night of speculation was for her, she knew that soon five women on the ship would struggle with the real dilemma she was imagining. They could take some comfort in knowing they weren't alone, yet the captain couldn't take much comfort from that fact.

It was well after midnight when her door chimed. She wasn't surprised that Chakotay, who had just come off bridge duty, stopped by for a talk. He rubbed his eyes sleepily as he entered. "The computer said you were still awake, and I figured you were probably thinking about the babies."

"Does it bother you, too, Chakotay?"

He smiled as he sat down in the chair beside the sofa. "I'm haunted by the same issues that are bothering you, I imagine. I keep wondering if one of the children might be mine. And if so, I wonder who its mother might be."

"It's better not to know that. I'd rather just terminate my rights without even knowing for sure if I was one of the pregnant women." She raised her chin defiantly, even as her heart was breaking. "That would be best for me, anyway. Never to know for sure."

"Do you really think so?"

"I can't be a mother and the captain of the ship, Chakotay, not if I want to do either job properly."

He looked down, studying his hands. "Who ever parents these babies will have the entire ship to help them, Kathryn. Who can resist a baby?"

She snorted. "I already feel like everybody's mother. Didn't Q tell us we were the mommy and daddy of the ship?"

"He was joking, of course." Chakotay studied her face. "You might not be one of the mothers, you know."

"Do you think not? With my incredible capacity for complicating my life?" she laughed.

"You would terminate your rights? What if the father doesn't? Can you carry on as usual and not be involved in your baby's life?"

"I have no choice." She rubbed her hands on her thighs as she thought. "Besides, if I am one of the mothers, maybe the father will also terminate his rights to the child."

"You would put an end to your baby's life?" He shook his head. "That might seem like a solution, but I couldn't live with it. I didn't deny Seska's child when she claimed it was mine, and I certainly couldn't deny a child I know is mine."

Janeway repressed a feeling of dread as she feigned a greater strength than she felt. "I can see why you wouldn't. But I could. I will."

"Think hard about that, Kathryn, because you'll have to live with the repercussions of the decision for the rest of your life. This would be your own baby, you know."

"I wouldn't think of it as a baby. It's a mistake that should never have happened, as Tuvok said."

He stood and stretched, giving her a wistful look. "I wish I could say that and mean it."

They said goodnight, but Janeway remained seated, staring blindly into space. She thought to herself, "I wish I could mean it, too."

**Three weeks later, or about four weeks after "Workforce," just prior to "Human Error"**

Janeway was proud of the way the crew had calmly accepted the news about Voyager's babies. While they were stunned by the news of the offspring conceived on Quarra, they went along with Janeway's suggestion that only the parents would initially be informed of their identities. This way, if an embryo was terminated, no one would be stigmatized by it or have to defend their decision.

If only one parent accepted a child, the other parent would remain anonymous, to keep him or her from being singled out and to keep a distance from the parent and child later on. If, in making a decision, the remaining parent wanted to know who his or her child's other parent was, that information would be revealed only if the other parent consented.

And finally, the uninvolved human women on the ship would be asked whether or not they would serve as a surrogate, if one or more of the expectant mothers refused to go on with the pregnancies.

The ship was abuzz with excitement as this delicate issue was discussed. Everywhere she went, Janeway found herself listening to yet another conversation about who might be expecting a child in the near future, who might have paired off on Quarra, and who might be "selfish" enough to terminate their parental rights. It was this assumption of self-centeredness that most unsettled her.

After overhearing one such judgmental comment, Janeway decided to discuss the problem with her first officer.

"Commander, I'm concerned about some comments I overheard in the mess hall last night." She noticed that Tom Paris straightened in his seat and that Harry Kim almost leaned over the railing in front of the ops station in undisguised curiosity.

Chakotay glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Is the bridge the best place to discuss this, Captain?"

"The comments were made in public, so why would I hesitate to bring them up in public?"

Chakotay frowned at her tone of voice. She was angry, and he would have to deal with this carefully or risk a full-blown explosion. "Okay. What concerned you?"

"I heard some of the crew discuss terminating parental rights as 'selfish.' I don't want anyone to suffer any kind of negative reaction if they decide not to be involved with their child. I especially don't want that decision characterized as selfish or immoral. No one would deny a child without serious thought, and we have no right to judge them for it." She was so furious that as she spoke her voice grew gradually louder, until she was nearly shouting.

Chakotay deliberately kept his tone at a normal level. "You actually heard someone say that terminating parental rights is selfish."

"Yes, I did," she tossed her head in defiance. "And I won't have it."

He nodded. He remembered her determination to deny her child and realized that these comments hit too close to home. "I'll be sure to brief the entire crew on the issue, Captain, so that there is no more insensitive talk. But, I can't change the way the crew feels."

She turned to him, and he realized that she had lost sleep, that there were dark circles under her eyes and a nervous edge to her composure that made her less tolerant of this type of confrontation. "Make sure they know that the captain will not tolerate any insensitivity toward any individual who is not ready or who feels unable to parent to a child. Make sure they know how difficult it is to make such a decision."

"I'll make sure they understand."

She nodded and made an odd face, one that seemed to be the precursor of angry tears. She stood up and headed for her ready room. "You have the bridge, Commander."

The doors closed, and Tom turned in his seat to give Chakotay a long, worried look. "What was that all about?" he wondered. "We don't even know who's who yet."

"The captain obviously doesn't want anyone to feel pressured to do something they don't want to do, Tom, especially something as significant as becoming a mother or father."

"I guess so." He shrugged. "I can see her point. I mean, B'Elanna and I also had the whole thing pushed on us all at once, but, then, we were aware of the chances along the way."

"Exactly, you two were married before the Quarrans captured us," Chakotay replied. "If these parents had been couples on the ship, their predicament would be much simpler to deal with. But, the pregnancies were really and truly 'unplanned.' And it may be that some people simply don't want to deal with a child right now. Or ever."

"I'd be lying if I didn't say I've had second thoughts myself, Commander. I just hope I don't have a second bun in the oven. Can you imagine that? Two pregnant women?"

Everyone on the bridge laughed, but Chakotay couldn't help but worry about the captain. He silently hoped that Janeway wasn't one of the women who had returned to the ship pregnant, for a dozen reasons. She was already distraught on the parents' behalf, and he worried that she would feel even worse if she had to make the choice about being a mother at this point in her life.

"Let's get back to work, people," he said as he pulled up the next course correction. "We'll have all this settled in the next few days."

At least, he thought to himself, I hope we will.

**About three days later**

The day of notification had finally arrived.

All of the human crew members were off duty for two shifts to allow the prospective parents the time and privacy they would need to take in dealing with their decision. Every human on board would be receiving a message from the EMH, informing them of their particular situation, and each person had a private place to go to read their message.

Janeway waited in her private quarters. Alpha shift had ended a few hours earlier, long enough for everyone to have had dinner before receiving the news. It was a well thought-out plan, and yet Janeway was displeased by it; nothing about the situation suited her.

She hadn't slept well in the weeks since the doctor had first informed her of the pregnancies, and she had been even more distraught since the crew had learned of it a few days earlier. She was almost certain that she had taken a lover on Quarra and that they had decided to have a child. However, the hunch increased rather than decreased the anxiety she felt.

She stopped dead in her tracks when, at precisely 1900, the computer chirped with an incoming message. She thought she might faint with apprehension until she reminded herself that every human on the ship was to be notified, even if they were not the prospective parents. Her message might say just that: you aren't one of the mothers, but would you consider being a surrogate? There was no reason to expect the worst.

She sat down at her desk and stared at the flashing red light. "Kathryn," she told herself, "don't be a coward."

She downloaded the message and, for a moment, stared at the words without comprehension. When she saw that it was the longer questionnaire, the one designed for the mother of one of the embryos, she very nearly fainted.

"I'm a mother," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "No, that's not right. I was going to be a mother."

She'd thought this situation through and had decided to read the information dispassionately and quickly choose the "terminate parental rights" box. She'd seen herself putting the whole problem behind her as a mistake that had been easily corrected. She'd have no second thoughts and no regrets about turning her back on a decision made by someone who wasn't the "real" Kathryn Janeway, but an unknown person who had been under the influence of a drastically altered memory.

But now she was realizing that nothing so serious could be that simple. The baby was a real person, and she found it impossible to read the words "terminate parental rights" dispassionately. As if to torture herself, she pulled up recent pictures of her sister, Phoebe, and her two children. She thought of holding her own infant as Phoebe held hers, the tiny fist waving above the bright blue eyes and porcelain skin, the little body smelling of soap and baby shampoo. She could feel the baby's short legs gripping her waist while a grubby hand bunched a fistful of uniform at her shoulder.

She stared blindly at the screen with tears in her eyes. Her decision affected something more significant than a few cells in a stasis chamber, for if the father decided to keep the child, he would no doubt find a surrogate mother, and Janeway would have no choice but to watch her own child grow up as a stranger.

She had no idea how long she sat at the computer, unable to move and barely breathing, but she eventually shut down the screen and sat back in her chair, completely worn out by the tension that had held her body immobile. She didn't have to decide right away, she remembered. The parents were to be given several days to consider their options, and she would take that time to do some more thinking.

This was a living baby. It was her baby, and probably the only chance she would have to be a mother, thanks to their exile in the Delta Quadrant. What had been an easy choice in the abstract became a haunting impasse in reality. If she and the father both gave up their rights to the child, then it would be terminated, essentially aborted, something she'd never personally condoned and could not imagine happening. Could she live with herself if she knew that her choice had brought about the death of her child?

She went blindly through the rest of the evening, taking a long bath, drinking two more glasses of wine, and then lying in her bed staring out at the stars for hours before falling into a fitful sleep just an hour before her alarm went off.

The next morning, she awakened even more exhausted than she'd been the night before, and no closer to a decision.

**One week later, about five weeks after "Workforce," and just after "Q2"**

Janeway sat alone in her ready room, even though she had long since finished her day's work. Since she'd been notified about her pregnancy, Janeway had been immersed in the disastrous father/son relationship between Q and Q2, and she had agonized with the young omnipotent over the uneven and uninspired parenting he was receiving. She'd spent long hours contemplating the real demands that came with the rearing of a child, its rewards and its heartbreaks, and continued to mull over the decision she had to make.

Alpha shift had ended hours earlier, but she'd remained in seclusion, driven to keep her mind distracted with busy work when, in fact, she knew that her time was up. She had to make a decision, and she had to do so at once.

Her console chirped with an incoming message from the doctor. She had been expecting to hear from him. He would be calling to remind her, as gently as he knew how, of her need to make up her mind. It was an unofficial call, he explained, hesitantly, and she heard a mix of barely restrained irritation and gentle compassion when he spoke her name.

"What is the problem, doctor?" she asked, hoping he'd pick up from her officious tone that she intended to keep this particular discussion on a professional level—chief medical officer to captain rather than doctor to patient. "I was just about to retire for the evening."

He nodded and averted his eyes. "I thought you might like to know how the crew survey is going, Captain. So far, I've heard from nine of the ten parents."

She swallowed hard. So she was the only one who had yet to make up her mind. She took a sip of coffee, glad to hide behind her captain's mask and ignore the guilt she felt for delaying the next step of the process. She prayed that he would join her as she pretended that this recalcitrant member of the crew was someone other than Kathryn Janeway. Her voice revealed nothing but a perfect blend of concern and detachment as she said, "I'd wondered about that."

"Several members of the crew have been asking me when we would proceed with the implantation of the embryos, and I've explained that we'd initially decided on a week."

"But the week is up," she interrupted him, letting him know that she was perfectly aware of the deadline. "None of parents has elected to terminate parental rights?" She looked at him with as little emotion in her face as possible even though her heart was pounding. If the answer was that all nine had accepted their children, then she would know that the father of her child would take the complete responsibility for the baby. It might be implanted in a surrogate and raised as a stranger, but it would not be aborted.

"Actually, two parents, a father and a mother, have chosen not to be involved. Luckily, they are not parents of the same child."

She closed her eyes and focused on breathing evenly. She didn't want to consider what might happen if the recalcitrant man was the father of her child. She would never forgive herself if her decision meant that her child would be aborted. "And the embryos? They're in good shape?"

"They can be stored indefinitely, Captain. I thought you understood that."

She nodded, her hands so clammy that she rubbed them on her slacks under the desk. She wondered, briefly, if she could just have her baby kept in stasis for awhile longer, in case they miraculously found a way home in the next few months, but she pushed that idea aside. Even if they kept up their incredible pace, it would be at least seven more years before the ship reached Federation space, and she would be nearly fifty years old, too old, in her opinion, to endure the duel challenges of a pregnancy and an infant.

There was only one issue left to be addressed. "Has anyone from the crew volunteered to serve as a surrogate mother?"

"Actually, several have done so." He studied her face warily, and she knew he wanted to tell her something important without breeching her desire for anonymity. "I wish there were a way for me to inform this last individual that the child would not be terminated if he or she chose to terminate parental rights. I think that might make the person's decision easier, don't you?"

"I think it might." She relaxed a little, sitting back in her chair with relief. Her child's father had chosen to stay involved, which meant that her child would be born and have a parent to care for it. She felt something give way in her chest, a warmth that nearly overwhelmed her.

The doctor was sympathetic. "Captain, I realize how difficult this decision might be for this member of the crew, and I hesitate to pressure anyone to make a decision like this with unjustified haste. But the others are anxious to move on, as you might imagine."

"Of course, I can understand that." She sighed and rubbed her right temple. "I would bet that this last crew member is aware of the deadline and intends to have the decision to you first thing in the morning."

His whole demeanor radiated sympathy, even as he respected her desire to remain detached from the discussion. "You're probably right, Captain. I won't panic until then."

Once the comm link was severed, she moved to the ready room sofa and gazed out the window for quite some time. The lights in the room, which were programmed to dim automatically after a period of inactivity, soon plunged her into twilight, and she ordered the computer to leave them off, preferring the comfort and quiet of the darkness.

She recalled the faces of the human males on the ship, thinking about what kind of father each would be to her child, wondering if he would form an attachment to the surrogate, perhaps even allowing her to function as the child's mother. She tried to see herself interacting with him without revealing that she was his child's mother. She tried to imagine watching another woman mother her child.

She could do it, she thought, as long as the father wasn't someone close to her--Harry or Tom or, God forbid, Chakotay. She could play the charade--offer to baby sit, rejoice in the milestones of its life--just as she had for Naomi, just as she would for the other children. And if the surrogate became a mother to the child, she could tolerate that, as well. She would have to.

At 0200, she realized that she needed to get up and move, and so she went through her usual midnight tour of the ship, starting at energy reclamation on deck fifteen and working her way up to the mess hall on deck two, a trip that took just over two hours to complete.

She was still drinking coffee on one of the mess hall sofas when Neelix appeared at 0430 to start breakfast. She ignored his quiet entrance into the room, and, after all these years, Neelix knew his captain's moods well enough to say hello and disappear into the kitchen without another word. He also knew that Chakotay would want to be notified of her melancholy demeanor, and so he sent a brief message to the first officer asking him to drop by the mess hall before he reported to the bridge.

Fifteen minutes later, as she was preparing to escape to her quarters, Janeway heard the doors open and looked up to see Chakotay retrieving a mug from the replicator and then heading straight for her.

"I'm not in the mood to talk," she warned him, holding up both hands. "Not even to you."

"Fine. Don't talk." He sat down across from her and sipped his tea, trying to gauge her mood from the color of her eyes. Steely grey. Not good. "I just wanted to say that I'd take your shift, since you've been up all night."

"How do you know I've been up all night?"

"I sent a message to your quarters a few hours ago, but you haven't read it yet." He endured her steady gaze. "And Neelix told me you'd been here for awhile."

"A spy ring in my midst." She made a face. "I appreciate the offer, but that won't be necessary, Commander. I'll be on the bridge as soon as I freshen up." She drained her mug and began to rise when his next words brought her to a stop.

"It's the babies, isn't it?"

For a moment, she couldn't breathe, thinking he might have somehow figured out that she was one of the mothers, but then she stood up and gave him a withering look, hoping that her reaction would keep him from pursuing the subject. "The babies?"

"Today's the day that the decisions are due. We're going to have some expectant parents in the next few weeks, and you're worried about all the complications that come with a generational ship. Daycare. Family quarters. A school. Protecting the children in the middle of hostile territory. I'm assuming it concerns you, because I know it scares the hell out of me." He shrugged. "I'll help you work out the details, Captain. We all will."

"The details?" she laughed, wondering if he had any idea what details she was grappling with. "I wish it were as easy as it seems to be from your perspective."

He blushed, suddenly angry with her for hiding behind her position once again. "I've been a ship's captain, you know. I've had to make tough decisions."

"I'm sorry, but there's no comparison, Commander. You captained a ship filled with adults who'd chosen to put their lives at risk, who were aware of what they were facing when they signed on to work with you. You had other Maquis nearby, safe havens for refuge and refitting, times when you could set aside all the responsibility and just be yourself. You didn't have families and children to think about, nor did you face decades of isolation in unknown, often hostile territory." She stood taller, pulling her uniform into a better fit. "I've barely survived the pressure of the last seven years with just one child on board, and I know quite well that this is just the beginning. There will be more partnerships, more pregnancies, and just as Voyager has begun to show signs of serious fatigue. No, Chakotay, the babies are just the tip of the iceberg."

He knew better than to argue with her when she was in a mood like this. "You're probably right, but we knew at the start of this journey that we might end up a generational ship. Frankly, I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner."

"Don't belittle the problem, Chakotay." Her eyes flashed blue ice and her voice carried across the room. He knew she was on the verge of truly losing her temper and didn't want their argument to have any witnesses. "This is a dramatic change in the whole population of our ship and one that will have lasting repercussions."

With a brief glance toward the galley, he stood up and took her elbow, gently shepherding her out of the mess hall. "This isn't a discussion that Neelix or anyone else needs to hear," he murmured in explanation.

As much as she wanted to jerk her arm free from his grasp, she relented and allowed him to lead her from the room. She couldn't afford to let others see how deeply the idea of families upset her, nor could she let herself think about the fact that she, too, could be a mother with a child, and maybe even have a man in her life. She could have it all if only she thought she could handle the captaincy and a family at the same time.

She knew she couldn't.

Once they were in the hallway, however, she stepped away from him and softened her stance, rubbing her face with fatigue. "I'm sorry, Chakotay. I'm tired and on edge. I'll take your offer to fill in for me this morning, if it still stands. Maybe I'll feel better after a few hours of sleep."

"Of course you will. And if it's any consolation, we'll know exactly what we're dealing with after today." He caught his breath, speculating out loud about what might be on her mind. "Maybe you're afraid that one of the babies will be terminated?"

"I just want to move on," she whispered as she brushed past him, unwilling to look him in the eye.

He watched her walk to the turbolift and step in, turning and squaring her shoulders before she requested her deck. As the lift's doors closed, he could tell she was overwrought with emotion, despite the fact that her eyes revealed no emotion whatsoever.

He couldn't remember the last time she'd been up all night worrying about something other than a real threat to Voyager's survival, but, he couldn't help her if she didn't tell him what was bothering her.

But then, they'd talked very little since their return from Quarra. At first they'd been too busy working to get the ship back in shape, but even after that she'd been remote and circumspect. She was one of the few people who hadn't gossiped about pregnancies or even discussed it with him on an informal basis. But that was consistent with her respect for the privacy of the individuals involved.

He ran a hand through his hair as made his way toward the bridge. If her unusual behavior had begun after the parental notifications had gone out, he might have thought she was one of the women struggling with a decision. But she'd been quiet and reserved from the very first, as soon as the doctor had dropped the bombshell on them all, which made him think that it was just another burden placed upon her back.

Whatever the problem was, he hoped she quickly found a way to solve it, for her moods set the tone for the crew, and this mood was ominous. He shook his head, quietly addressing his absent, troubled friend, "Kathryn, if only you would talk to me about what's bothering you."

**One week later, about six weeks after "Workforce," and just after "Friendship One" **

Janeway sat in Joe Carey's quarters toying with a tiny nacelle for the "Voyager in a bottle" the engineer had been building for his son. Chakotay sat to her right, studying her profile and wishing he could think of something to say to make Carey's death meaningful. Their first assignment from Starfleet had cost them the life of a reliable, valued member of the crew, and Janeway was visibly distressed.

"What do you have there?" she asked him, setting the nacelle aside and reaching for the PADD he carried. "An update on the changes we made to the planet?"

"Actually, it's a report from the doctor. On the babies."

Janeway froze, her eyes widening with surprise. So much had been happening in the last few days that she'd managed to forget about them. "The babies. I'd repressed that whole situation." She took the PADD from him, almost afraid to hear what he had to say. "What's happened?"

"The three babies whose mothers decided to carry them have been successfully re-implanted."

"That's good news." She glanced up at him, once again relieved to know that she wasn't the only woman who had given up her child. Her greatest fear had been that the crew would deduce that she was, indeed, the ice queen they'd always thought her to be.

Chakotay nodded, looking down at his hands. "One of the other two babies has been successfully implanted in a surrogate mother, but the second one has developed unexpected complications."

"What kind of complications?" Her voice was a whisper.

"The last baby is incompatible with any of the surrogate mothers who have volunteered. In fact, it's incompatible with any female on board." He looked up at her, his misery nearly palpable. "It seems that the fetus carries a virus, and the doctor says that unless the surrogate already has immunity, she'll contract the disease."

"Are you saying that the baby has the disease, too?"

He shook his head. "The virus is dormant in the child."

"Then couldn't he just develop an inoculation that would protect the surrogate mother?"

"He's tried to devise one, but the virus is complex, and he's unwilling to risk a life unless he is absolutely sure it will work." He shifted in his chair, unwilling to look her in the eye. "I'm the baby's father, you see, and the baby carries the virus that stranded us on New Earth."

Janeway gasped and gripped the edge of the table. She'd suspected that Chakotay might be one of the people caught in this impossible situation from his comments and behavior in recent weeks. In time, all of the active parents would become public, of course, but the decision had been made to maintain their anonymity until each child was successfully "on its way." Meanwhile, she'd managed to stay busy enough to repress the possibility and distant enough from him to keep him from broaching the subject.

She turned to the doctor's report without comment and learned the other father who was using a surrogate was Billy Telfer, a man at least fifteen years her junior. While it was possible that she might have been involved with Telfer on Quarra, chances were much better that she had been with Chakotay, just as she'd feared from the first moment this whole mess had begun. Her hands trembled as she realized that the child must have gotten the virus from both of them, from both parents, although Chakotay couldn't be sure of that. He didn't know if she had terminated her parental rights.

She looked up at him. "I thought we'd both been cured of that disease."

"I thought so, too, but the doctor said that the Vidiian 'cure' was actually a resequencing of that part of the virus that allows it to replicate in our bodies. We still have the virus in our systems, it just can't spread."

"I studied the cure," she answered, her eyes focused on a seam in the bulkhead behind him. "It was an elegant solution, and one that I really didn't understand. The Vidiians are far, far ahead of us when it comes to certain types of medicine."

"Too bad they're too far away to help us now." He rubbed his hands together and looked up at her at last, taking a deep, calming breath before he spoke. "Kathryn, I'm a desperate man, and it's occurred to me that you--."

She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. "There has to be a viable solution to this problem. Perhaps we could develop a maturation chamber." She gave him a reassuring smile. "Whatever your child needs, I promise we'll find it."

Before she could leave the room, he jumped to his feet and positioned himself in front of her, effectively blocking her path. "Kathryn, I have a favor to ask of you."

Janeway studied his commbadge, hoping he couldn't detect the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. "If you're thinking of asking me to carry the baby, don't ask."

He ignored her words, rushing on before she could continue. "You carry the virus, just like I do. You're the only other person who has a natural immunity that would prevent you from contracting the disease if you carried the baby."

The blood was rushing through her head so fast that she felt dizzy. "You don't know that."

"No, but I could ask the doctor to look into using you as a surrogate."

Her temper flared, and she glared at him. "You have no right to ask me to do this." She started to push past him, but he grabbed her by the shoulders.

"We're talking about my baby, Kathryn, probably the only child I'll ever have."

"I understand that, and I know exactly how important that is to you." Janeway closed her eyes to keep back the tears that burned in them. "But, I will not carry the baby."

"I'm not asking you to be the baby's mother--"

"The answer is no!" She pulled away from him, rubbing her upper arms where he'd gripped her too tightly. She felt an icy hand squeeze her heart. This was the discussion she had wanted so desperately to avoid, the discussion that would forever ruin her friendship with Chakotay. Even though she felt her world crumbling around her, she kept her chin high and did what she had to do. "I won't carry a baby just to give it away."

"Women give babies up for adoption every day."

"Not this woman. You have no idea what you're asking of me, Chakotay. Mothers who give up their babies don't have to watch the child grow up right under their noses, don't have to hear the child call someone else mother after nurturing them in their bodies for nine months." She shook her head dismissing his suggestion with an unmistakable air of finality. "Seven of Nine and the doctor can help you construct a maturation chamber. Use whatever resources you deem necessary."

"You can't do this to the baby," Chakotay said as he let her brush past him and reach the door. "I know you, Kathryn. You're a warm, sympathetic woman, and you won't refuse to help an innocent baby, especially when the baby is your own."

Janeway jerked to a stop, feeling as if a spear had pierced her through the heart. Her voice was a whisper. "I beg your pardon."

"It's the only explanation, isn't it?" He turned toward her. "You were one of the mothers, weren't you? That's what troubled you about this whole situation. We were together on Quarra. The baby got the virus from both of us."

Her throat closed, and for a moment she struggled to breathe. "I refuse to discuss this kind of wild speculation with you."

"You'd let your own child die?" Now there were tears in his eyes, tears of anger and frustration. "What kind of a person are you?"

"How dare you!" She twirled to face him, her face distorted with fury. "All of them are my children, and none of them."

"Kathryn, your child has the right--."

"I have no child!" she interrupted him, fists gripped at her side. "I will never have a child while captain of this ship. The moment I destroyed the Caretaker's array, I gave up any chance for a personal life, for a family, for happiness." She paused, the grief on his face mirroring her own. "Neither of us knows what really happened on Quarra. All we know is that whoever the woman was who conceived your child, she wasn't the captain of this ship, and I refuse to speculate about the life she led--the life I can never have."

Chakotay's face crumpled and tears spilled from his eyes. He was so angry that he could hardly speak. "Whether we meant for the pregnancy to happen or not, it happened, and the life of an innocent child hangs in the balance."

She wanted to put her arms around him, to cry out with him against the cruel tide of fate that had broken them against the rocks of reality, but she knew that the slightest touch would break her resolve. She could not go through a pregnancy while serving as the captain of Voyager. One hundred and fifty people were depending on her to keep the ship in one piece, to face down enemies intent on destroying them, to solve a dozen engineering challenges a week, to keep them focused on their ultimate goal of home. She couldn't settle down and start a family, couldn't nurse an infant when there was dilithium to be mined or an enemy to be defeated.

"It didn't happen to me!" She stepped away from him, an icy chasm forming between them. "I'll move heaven and earth to find another way for your child to be born, Chakotay, but I will not go through a pregnancy, not for your sake nor for anyone else's."

A full minute passed with them glaring at one another, neither willing to give an inch. Finally, Chakotay looked away, nearly crushed with despair.

"I'm worried about you," he whispered through gritted teeth as he slumped against the wall. "I'm troubled about what this decision will do to you and to our friendship."

"Maybe it well destroy our friendship. I don't know. I do know that, friends or not, I'll do what I have to do to get this crew home. And so will you, Commander."

He looked up at her with tortured eyes. "What kind of person are you? How can you refuse to help an innocent baby? Your own flesh and blood? Are you so stubborn and inflexible that you'd refuse to--"

She slapped him so hard and so quickly that the sting of the blow surprised her as much as it did him. Although she was horrified at what she'd done, she refused to show it, drawing her command presence around her like a shield. "By God, Commander, if you find it impossible to continue as my first officer, then step aside."

His eyes glittered with angry tears as he covered his cheek with his hand. "Never. I'll never step aside. You're going to look at me every day, Captain, and remember everything you've thrown away."

She shuddered and took a last look around the vacant quarters, defiant to the last. "Very well, then. See that Joe's belongings are packed up and stored for his family. Make sure the Friendship One is properly warehoused and bring me a report on its condition before the end of the shift."

"Aye, Captain," Chakotay answered, too deep in despair to argue any further.

Janeway nodded and left the room without another word.

**Five weeks later, about ten weeks after "Workforce," between "Natural Law" and "Homestead"**

Chakotay stood before Janeway's desk delivering his daily report while the captain struggled to concentrate on his words. His anger still bubbled just beneath the surface, detectible in the most subtle ways--the way he sat turned away from her on the bridge, the distant and cold tone of his voice when he spoke to her in private, the calculating look in his eye whenever she ran a meeting or gave an order on the bridge. Despite her efforts to ignore his fury, she found it nearly impossible to do so when she constantly heard his words echoing in her head: "What kind of a person are you?"

Although she was sure the crew had detected no change in their behavior, she knew that her relationship with Chakotay had never been more tenuous. He had never again confronted her about the baby, yet neither of them had managed to get past the animosity that the argument in Joe Carey's quarters had brought to the surface. He had been polite and respectful each time he dealt with her, and she'd been professional and gracious in return, but the familiar banter, the gentle teasing, the shared jokes and private dinners had completely disappeared.

She was at a loss as to how to repair the damage, and she could tell that he was uninterested in even trying to do so. Never before had they faced a problem that seemed so insurmountable, not even when she'd made a difficult alliance with the Borg, not even when she'd relieved him of duty during the Equinox disaster.

When he'd admitted to her that he was the father of the baby, he'd also confirmed her suspicion that they had been a couple on Quarra. Although he couldn't be sure she was his baby's mother, she knew that he suspected it was true, as if he had a subconscious awareness of their love affair that was similar to her own. She desperately wanted to discuss the situation with him, but she knew it was much too dangerous to do so, especially as long as he resented her refusal to help with the baby. Their work relationship was fragile at best, and another argument might leave it in shreds.

However, in the days and weeks since that argument, her personal hell had steadily increased in intensity. She knew that she and Chakotay were parents of the baby—a possibility that she had dreamed of many times over the last several years. She wondered about the baby's looks, whether it would have his dark hair and eyes, her crooked grin, the "Janeway chin." Would it ever be born? Would she ever see this mixture of herself and the man she secretly loved?

As if that wasn't enough, as if worrying about the baby's health and well-being wasn't a sufficient burden, she was also tantalized by the intimacy that must have existed between them. She was fixated on the fact that on Quarra she had finally acted on her feelings, finally told him how much she cared, only to have it all erased and forgotten.

He wasn't the first coworker that she'd found attractive. All Starfleet officers learned how to deflect and defuse emotional entanglements that would be unhealthy or would dangerously complicate their jobs. In this case, she'd been engaged, she'd been his commanding officer, and they'd been in an impossible situation 70,000 light years from home.

Both of them had known that they had to avoid a romantic involvement if they were to be an effective command team. Working with a potential lover was a difficult task, but it was much harder to work with a former lover, especially when there was no chance for one of them to transfer to another ship. They had managed to avoid this complication for nearly seven years and had forged a very satisfying friendship out of the process.

Quarra had changed that, even though their memories of it had been lost. Janeway was convinced that on some subliminal level her mind and her body acknowledged the physical and emotional bond that had existed between them. She shuddered. If they were finding it hard to work together with this veiled connection between them, she could only imagine how difficult it would be once the baby was born and they had to live with a physical reminder of their forgotten relationship.

They had been lovers. They had been lovers long enough on Quarra to decide to have a child together. They had no doubt lived together, slept together, bathed together, done every intimate and amorous thing together that she would expect to do with someone she adored. Knowing that, her heart raced whenever he spoke to her, stood beside her, or touched her in the most innocent ways. Her memory might be gone, but her body knew and remembered.

Now when he occupied the seat beside her on the bridge or in the conference room, she imagined how his hands had moved over her body and dreamed of his comforting weight and warmth as he lay with her. She watched him speak and wondered what his lips had felt like as he'd kissed her, how she had responded when he'd used them to explore the secret places of her body. She gripped her own hands in her lap, for they had undoubtedly traced the intricate weaving of his tattoo, had felt the soft spikiness of his hair, had explored the muscles in his back and chest and arms, had caressed other parts of his body that she couldn't bear to imagine.

She had submitted to their mutual love by accepting his body into her own, by opening herself physically, emotionally, and spiritually without reservation, by conceiving a child. She had done all of that and more, and yet she remembered none of it.

"Captain?" Chakotay stared at her in expectation. "Have you heard a word I've said?"

She brought her mind back to the present and found herself seated at her desk with her first officer standing before her. She remembered nothing of what he'd said and could think of no excuse that would explain her inattention. "I'm sorry, Chakotay, but I've been having trouble concentrating today. Just leave the PADD on my desk. I'll read it and forward any comments to you later on."

"Kathryn, I asked you if you were all right. You've seem distracted these last few days."

She laced her fingers together tightly on the desk and gave him a level look. "I'm fine."

"We both know better."

She tried not to fidget as he continued to study her face. Her mind whirled, struggling to come up with a red herring that would serve as a feasible substitute for her real troubles. She smiled when she thought of a solution--his most recent shuttle accident. "The close call you and Seven had when you crashed on the Ledosian home world rattled me more than I realized," she explained. "Losing Joe Carey reminded me that we're all mortal, I guess."

"Is that the problem?" Chakotay narrowed his eyes, and Kathryn found herself holding her breath. He hadn't bought her lie and was trying to decide whether or not to confront her with it. The room was silent as they regarded each other, but then his face softened, and she felt certain that he was going to let her sidestep the real issue once again. "I'm sorry that my recent behavior has made your life more difficult. That was never my intent."

Recent behavior. She caught her breath again, realizing that his words had two meanings. He was talking about the fact that he'd crashed yet another shuttle into Vintu territory, but he was also referring to their volatile confrontation in Joe Carey's quarters.

"I know that you would never intentionally add to my burdens," she said, her voice a whisper. "And I want you to know that I'm sorry, too, for what I've had to do."

He nodded and for a moment she thought he might say something more, that this vague and tentative discussion might blossom into a talk that would start to heal the rift between them. But then he shifted his stance and laid the PADD on her desk, letting the moment pass in favor of business as usual. "You won't find much of interest in this report, I'm afraid. Nothing happened of note today."

She hid her disappointment by making a lame joke. "An uneventful day in the Delta Quadrant. Just the kind I like."

He quickly took his leave, and Kathryn sat staring at the door. In some ways, she regretted that they had not dealt openly with what was bothering them. In other ways, she was relieved.

What surprised her were the tears that appeared unbidden on her cheeks. She would have to get used to this new formality in their relationship. She would have to let him go, once and for all, especially if he managed to become a father. She would have to learn to see him with his child and not participate fully in their lives. She would have to get used to being alone. Somehow, she would have to let him and the baby go.

**Immediately following the previous scene**

Chakotay sat in the dark silence of his quarters, his medicine bundle forgotten on the coffee table as he stared out at the stars. He'd come here directly from his meeting with the captain, determined to seek his spirit guide and find some scrap of hope about his child's future. But he was sure that his attempt to meditate would fail, as it always did when he had a disagreement with Kathryn Janeway, and so he had simply relaxed and spent the time thinking about his predicament.

His fury at Janeway had gradually decreased over the last few weeks, replaced at first by resignation and finally by apathy. As difficult as it was for him to believe, Janeway would not participate in their child's life, even if that meant that the child would never be born.

He couldn't reconcile this behavior to the woman he'd come to admire over the last seven years, a woman who was consistently compassionate about and protective of her crew. He had concluded that his understanding of Kathryn Janeway had been distorted by false assumptions and wishful thinking. He realized that he might have been emotionally attached to a woman who existed only in his imagination.

This disillusionment with his captain had crept up on him slowly since their return from Quarra and the since they had been faced with the problem of the unexpected pregnancies. She had been defensive and non-supportive from the very first, and she'd refused to discuss the reasons behind her feelings with him or anyone else, to his knowledge.

It was only after his own child was diagnosed with the "New Earth virus" that he'd blamed her uncharacteristic behavior on the guilt and sorrow she must feel at having to give up her own child--because he knew the child must have gotten the virus from both mother and father. He'd been naïve enough to think that she'd relent once she knew that he was her child's father, but her refusal had taught him an important lesson—that he and his child were of less importance to Kathryn Janeway than her duty to the ship and crew.

He felt like a fool for having held out hope for a future beside her. Yet, giving up the dream was painful, more painful than he would've thought possible.

He wasn't the only person on the crew who was grieving, however. Naomi Wildman had been overlooked in the days following their return from Quarra, and Chakotay had done what he could to become more involved in her education. Just a few days earlier, while they had been working in his quarters, Naomi had said something that had opened his eyes on his captain's unbending attitude.

_They finished her history lesson and were sharing a bowl of ice cream as a reward for doing so well. _

"_Your quarters look out on the left side of the ship, don't they, Commander?" the girl asked them as they finished the ice cream and lingered for some light conversation. _

"_That's right. My quarters are on the port side of the ship, while yours are on the starboard." _

"_Yeah. I was talking to the captain the other day and I told her that she is always looking forward, from the bridge, from the ready room, and even from her quarters." _

"_I guess I hadn't thought about that," he replied. "But I guess all of her usual haunts do face forward." _

"_When I asked the captain about it, she said that it was just fine with her. She said that she couldn't afford to let anyone or anything distract her from her goal of getting us home." Naomi paused, unsure of her next words. "She said something about being a horse that was blind?" _

"_A horse with blinders?" he suggested, a smile pulling at his mouth. _

"_Yeah. What are blinders, Commander?" _

"_They are part of a bridle that fits over the horse's eyes to keep the horse focused on what is in front of it. Otherwise, the horse might be distracted by other things going on around them." _

"_That's what I figured," Naomi sighed. "Seems to me that if the captain's wearing blinders, she's missing out on a lot of good things along the way, and that makes me feel sad for her." _

"_I feel sorry for her, too," he admitted, but he hadn't said that he thought the captain was too narrow in her focus, that she labeled some things a distraction when they might better be called a common, necessary ingredient of life, no matter what circumstances one lived through. "I wish she would do things differently." _

_Naomi soon departed for home, but he sat alone for awhile thinking about the captain, always looking forward, always refusing to be distracted by the very activities and relationships that might help her deal with the pressure and responsibility that suffocated her. _

From almost the first day of their partnership, he and the captain had disagreed on how to live their lives, and their different attitudes had shown up in dozens of ways over the last seven years. Usually, her remoteness affected only the two of them, but this time it threatened the well-being of their unborn child, a situation that he found impossible to accept.

He realized that it was time for him to start living his life for today instead of putting it off for some indefinite time in the future. Depressed, he left his quarters and wandered through the passageways of the ship, telling himself that it was time to give up on sharing a life with the aloof and "blindered" Kathryn Janeway. He was about to return to his quarters when he found himself outside an unoccupied holodeck. He paused momentarily and then called up a favorite program.

New Earth. He'd spent weeks reconstructing an exact holograph scenario of the private world he'd shared with the captain, hoping to bring her here whenever they resumed the intimate relationship that had been interrupted by Voyager's untimely return. He walked through the forest, studied the interior of the cabin, and sat for a long time beside the river they had never been able to explore, enjoying the warm summer sun and the aroma of flowers in the wind.

Then he called for an arch and, standing under it, gazed at what had promised to be paradise. Tears in his eyes, he straightened his shoulders and said, "Computer, delete program."

After Chakotay left the holodeck that day, he never looked back.

to be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Ties that Bind **by mizvoy

See Part 1 for disclaimer

**PART 2**

**Two weeks later after Part 1: three months after "Workforce," and just before the final scene of "Homestead" **

"Why can't you just use the same kind of maturation chamber the Borg use?" Neelix wondered as he studied the working plans on Seven's computer.

"The Borg begin the process with babies or young children, not embryos. We're actually attempting to construct an artificial womb," Seven of Nine answered. "They also make extensive use of cybernetic implants in the infant's body, which is something we want to avoid."

"Absolutely," the Talaxian agreed with a shudder.

"Also, the chamber requires a great deal of power, more than we can reliably provide if the ship comes under attack, and so we need to find a way to reduce it."

"That's a difficult problem." He frowned at the complicated design. "I thought B'Elanna and the captain would be helping you design this."

"Lieutenant Torres helps when she can, but I think Chakotay prefers not to involve the captain in the project."

"That's odd, don't you think? Not only is she an excellent scientist, she's one of his best friends."

"I'm unsure of the exact nature of their disagreement. Perhaps the captain disapproves of our attempt to develop a maturation chamber."

Neelix frowned. "That doesn't sound like the captain I know."

"I do know that the issue is fraught with emotion. Perhaps she fears that the power supply used by the chamber will put the ship in danger, or perhaps she doesn't want another child born on the ship. Whatever it is, Chakotay refuses to discuss the captain with me. Most of the time, we focus on our research."

"I see." Neelix crossed his arms and studied the star field that was on the huge screen of the astrometrics lab. Thinking back over the last few weeks, he realized that hadn't seen the command team together as much as usual and wondered whether it had been a disagreement over the maturation chamber that had come between them. He couldn't imagine that the captain would begrudge Chakotay his own child and suspected that there was something else causing the rift between them.

Only time would tell, he supposed, as he made a mental note to observe the situation more closely. In the meantime, he was curious about this new relationship that was blossoming between the former drone and the first officer. "So you and the commander have been working on this project all by yourselves?"

"For the most part, whenever we have time to do so. Actually, I've been the one doing most of the work, since Borg technology isn't the commander's area of expertise. However, he seems to enjoy doing whatever he can to assist me. He's anxious to have the child born."

"I'm sure he is. Fortunately, the embryo is in stasis, so there's no hurry about completing the work."

"Correct. And we want to be satisfied that the chamber will work properly for the entire eight months that remain in the gestation period before we attempt to use it."

"Eight whole months? Why so long? It didn't take One that long to mature."

"Not only was One Borg, he was from the twenty-ninth century," Seven replied, as if that explained everything.

"I guess you and the commander are getting along better now that you're working together?"

Seven froze, obviously embarrassed, and then replied, "He seems grateful for my help, and we have developed a much better rapport."

Neelix grinned with delight. "I've seen the two of you in the mess hall quite often in recent weeks, and not just while you're working on the chamber, I suspect. I wondered if you'd considered pursuing a more intimate relationship with him."

"Are you playing matchmaker again?" she said as she raised an eyebrow. "I've heard others say that since you've met Dexa, you've been encouraging everyone to begin a romantic relationship."

"Well, that might be part of it," he laughed, looking a little sheepish. "I guess I want everyone to be as happy as I am. I know what it's like to be alone, Seven. I've been lonely since Kes and I ended our romance, and I know you've been lonely, too. When you have a chance to get to know someone better, don't pass it up. Those chances come along only so often."

She looked up from her console with interest. "How, exactly, would one proceed?"

The Talaxian nearly quivered with delight. "I could make some suggestions, if you'd like."

"I would appreciate your suggestions, but you're leaving the ship in less than twenty-four hours."

"True, but I'll be in contact with Voyager for the next six or seven weeks. With any luck, your relationship will be well established by the time you're out of range."

"Very well," the former drone nodded. "Perhaps you can suggest an activity that would be appropriate for a first date."

"Absolutely! In fact, I'll give you suggestions for the first ten dates!"

**A few hours **later

Neelix cleaned up the galley for the last time and walked into the darkened lounge area of the mess hall, only to find the captain relaxing in the lounge area, a coffee mug on the table in front of her. She was comfortably sprawled on the sofa, and, since he couldn't tell if she were awake or asleep, Neelix approached her quietly. "Captain? Is there something you need?"

She smiled up at him and shook her head. "Just another sleepless night in the Delta Quadrant, that's all."

"You should be drinking herbal tea or warm milk, not coffee."

She grinned. "Actually, that's chamomile tea."

Neelix sat down across from her. "I hope my imminent departure isn't adding to your worries. I feel certain that Mr. Chell will do an excellent job in the galley, especially if Tal Celes helps out now and then."

"Although it will be a challenge, we'll adjust to your absence." She rested her head on her hand and looked around the empty room. "I bet you've observed some interesting events in here over the last seven years--both public and private--and yet you seldom gossip about the crew. I know everyone has appreciated your discretion. Maybe you could make some suggestions about diplomacy to Mr. Chell."

"Oh, I've talked to him, but experience is the best teacher. I think he'll learn, in time, that he's much like a bartender. People tend to tell the cook what's on their mind, but if they find out that he's not trustworthy, they'll stop confiding in him."

"A tough lesson for a Bolian to learn, I imagine." She gave him a fond look. "I want you to know that you've been as valuable to me as any other member of the crew. In fact, I think your work as morale officer was an essential ingredient in the feeling of family among us, and you're willingness to serve as ambassador has smoothed diplomatic relations with more than one alien species along the way."

"I appreciate that, Captain. My time here has been wonderful, and I'm happy to say that I only have one regret."

"What's that?"

"I wish I could stay long enough to see the new babies when they're born."

Janeway closed her eyes and gently rubbed her forehead. "The babies."

He decided to take advantage of the rare opportunity to talk to her about this particular topic, for it had been on his mind for the last several weeks. "Captain, I can't help but sense that you are less than enthusiastic about the upcoming births."

"It's an added complication, I'll admit that."

"Are you upset about the extra trouble that the infants will require?"

She shook her head. "It isn't that, exactly. It's just a drastic change, and another demand on Voyager's limited resources."

"I think you underestimate how much the crew will benefit from their presence. Have you forgotten how much the crew has enjoyed Naomi?"

"Of course not. Naomi has been a wonderful addition to our crew."

"Everything worth having comes with a price."

She looked up at him thoughtfully, a faraway look in her eyes. "You're so right. Everything, good or bad, comes with a price, Neelix, and we're forced to pay it whether we want to or not."

"If you aren't concerned about the extra trouble," he began, carefully feeling his way along, "then what is it about the babies that has upset you?"

"Who says I'm upset about the babies?" she demanded, sitting up to face him directly, her temper flaring. "I know that we'll find a way to care for them and house them and educate them, and I'm convinced the babies will create an even stronger bond between us, just as Naomi did." She stood up and walked past him to the windows, anxious to hide the pain his question had brought her. "I've always believed that Voyager would become a generational ship if we were out here long enough."

"I didn't mean to imply that you didn't want them, Captain, and no one appreciates Naomi more than I do. It's just that many of us sense that you're . . . well, maybe we're just overreacting."

"No, please," she faced him, her hands gripped tightly behind her back. "Tell me what you've sensed in my behavior. If I've done something to make the crew doubt that I support having these children with us, then I need to know, and the sooner the better."

"What I've noticed is that you've distanced yourself from the entire process, as if you aren't interested and don't want to be involved."

"Distanced myself?"

"The captain I know would have contacted each of the prospective parents and met with them personally to reassure them that every necessary accommodation would be made for their pregnancies and to tell them that the ready room door is open if they need anything whatsoever."

Janeway blinked, a little surprised that she hadn't thought of doing something like that. "You have a point. I will meet with each one, Neelix, just as soon as I can."

"Perhaps the problem is that you're conflicted about what's happened."

"Conflicted?"

He shifted slightly in his seat. The captain seldom discussed her personal life with anyone, and she usually deflected questions about her private life with an ice cold stare. He knew he was on thin ice, but his imminent departure made him bolder than usual. "Captain, am I wrong to think that you always hoped to have children of your own?"

His words hit her hard, and for a panicked moment, she thought she might faint, but then her head cleared and she gave him a stern look. "Your point?"

"I guessing that you wouldn't have minded if you'd been one of the women who became pregnant on Quarra."

Her head spinning, Janeway reached for the support strut by the window, leaning against it as she waited to regain her balance. "No, Neelix, you're wrong. I decided years ago that I couldn't be captain of this ship and a mother at the same time."

"Hmmm." Neelix, who had twisted on the sofa to face her, was obviously unconvinced. "I thought that might be the reason why you haven't been involved in . . . oh, never mind."

"Why I haven't been involved in what?" she demanded.

"Seven told me that you haven't provided any input whatsoever into the chamber she's designing for Chakotay's baby, and I wondered why you weren't more interested--."

His comments were interrupted by a sudden lurch as the ship changed speed, and then, a second later, by the intercom.

"Tuvok to Janeway."

Relief flooded through her as she replied, "Go ahead, Commander."

"You asked to be informed if the port injectors failed again. Engineering reports that we lost magnetic containment for 0.069 seconds on two of the injectors, and several others are showing signs of the same malfunction. Automatic shutdown was avoided, but they want to take the warp core offline so they can do a detailed diagnostic. Do you wish to have Lieutenant Torres awakened so that she can take charge?"

"No, let her sleep." Janeway took a deep breath. "I'll go down to engineering and help out there until her shift starts. In the meantime, adjust our speed to full impulse and inform the Talaxians that Neelix will be with us a few hours longer than we expected."

"Aye, Captain."

She walked to the table and picked up the tea, studying the inside of the cup for a long moment. "Neelix, no one hopes more than I do that Seven will come up with a maturation chamber that will work. No one. But, I have serious doubts about the reliability of the chamber, because it's a terrible power hog, and I think it's wrong to get Chakotay's hopes up when the chances are so slim for success." She drained the last of the tea from the cup. "Tonight is an example of why I worry. For the last month, we've been unable to maintain cruising speed for an entire shift, and I worry about what power fluctuations like that might mean for the chamber."

"I see," he nodded. "I didn't realize."

"No, you wouldn't." She ran her finger around the rim of the cup. "I have to think conservatively, Neelix, and I have to be brutally honest. Not only is Voyager showing signs of wear, she's getting by on alien technology that doesn't come up to Starfleet specifications." She looked up at him. "We picked up these malfunctioning injectors, for example, just a few weeks ago, and we've had nothing but trouble with them. We've had to reduce speed or drop out of warp completely almost every day since they were installed.

"Now, what will happen if they fail while we're under attack? What if twice as many injectors failed? I'd have no choice but to steal power from less critical locations, including life support. I can't promise that we can maintain the chamber for eight months. Eight months is an eternity out here." She absently rubbed her forehead. "I can't think of an eight month span when we didn't have some sort of confrontation or complication, can you?"

He realized that she was waiting for him to reply. "No, I can't."

"If I can't guarantee that the chamber will be fully powered throughout the entire eight months, I can't approve it. I can't take a chance on disrupting the chamber's power supply at a critical point in the baby's development." She shook her head slightly. "What if I had to make a decision that might, as a side effect, kill or seriously damage the baby?"

Neelix paled. "I wouldn't want to be faced with a decision like that."

"Neither would I." She made a face. "I haven't looked at Seven's most recent design, but I'm aware of how much power a maturation chamber uses, and I can't, in good conscience, guarantee that we will always have enough for it. I couldn't live with myself if I was forced to damage the baby in order to save the ship."

"I'm afraid, Captain, that I oversimplified the problem."

She smiled and put down the cup with a tired sigh. "Problems always look simpler from the lower decks, Neelix. I can remember when I was a junior officer that I would think that the captain must be stupid for not seeing the proper solution to a problem. Later, I realized that I had a very narrow focus and had overlooked many of the other problems my 'proper solution' would cause."

"Perhaps you could help the crew understand those complications? Then they might understand why you haven't been more active in helping Seven design the chamber."

She frowned and shook her head. "I'm not going to start explaining my orders, Neelix, and, besides, I don't have the time to devote to the project. I always do what I believe is best for the crew. After seven years in the Delta Quadrant, I'd hope they would give me the benefit of the doubt when my actions confuse them."

Before Neelix could argue, the ship lurched again and Janeway nearly lost her balance. "Tuvok to Janeway."

She was already heading for the door. "Go ahead."

"The diagnostic has revealed that several injectors are about to freeze up. I've been forced to bring the ship to a full stop."

"Acknowledged," she said as she left the mess hall, giving Neelix a brief wave of goodbye. "Wake up Lieutenant Torres and ask her to meet me in engineering."

The doors closed behind the captain's retreating figure, leaving Neelix alone. He turned off the remaining lights in the mess hall and made his way slowly to his quarters, pondering what he'd seen and heard in the last few days. It was clear to him that the captain had a problem with the solution Chakotay was exploring, legitimate ones, at that, but, he also sensed that there was more to it than she'd acknowledged and, for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was.

**Three days later**

Night watch on the bridge.

Janeway was pulling one of her infrequent tours on a non-alpha bridge shift, her goal being to "show the flag" and remind all of the crews that she was the boss. The process always left her reeling, mainly because she insisted on working her regular tour as well. The thought of staying up through another four hours and then pulling alpha shift made her tired, and she soon found herself fighting a constant desire to yawn, stretch out her legs, and rest her head against the back of the command seat for a nap.

She finally gave up. The siren call from the ready room sofa was simply too strong to ignore any longer, and so she glanced up at the ops station and said, "Mr. Kim, you have the bridge. I'll be in my ready room."

Kim was still acknowledging her order when the lift doors opened and Chakotay stepped onto the bridge. When Janeway arrived at her ready room doors, her first officer was waiting for her.

"Commander?" she asked. "I thought you had beta shift today."

"I'm here for my parental pep talk," he replied, his eyes glittering with anger. "I think I'm the only one you haven't seen."

She could feel the bridge crew watching them. "Chakotay, it's four o'clock in the morning."

He smirked at her, giving her a look that bordered on defiance. "Am I disturbing your plans for a nap, Captain?"

Janeway bristled as his comments elicited a few chuckles from the crew. "No time like the present, I suppose." She entered her office with Chakotay right behind her. Taking a side trip to the replicator, she said, "Have a seat, Commander."

"All right."

She stood in front of the replicator contemplating her order and gathering her wits about her. It was an ungodly hour for a meeting, and she knew that Chakotay had chosen it with care.

After all, he often lectured the crew about setting up meetings at appropriate times, about giving the attendees advance notice of the topics to be discussed, about the tactical advantages of choosing the time and place of any confrontation. He'd broken his own rules for a reason, chosen a time and place to suit his own purposes, and she had a feeling that he was going to make this confrontation a difficult one for her.

"Can I get you something?" she asked, turning toward her desk area only to find it empty.

"Your credits, I assume?" His voice came from behind her, from the upper lounge area, and so she turned completely around to find him sitting comfortably on the sofa with his arms stretched along the back cushion.

"Sure. It's early in the month." She replicated their drinks--Rigellan tea and black coffee--and joined him on the sofa. They both took a sip and then regarded each other. She decided to fire the first salvo. "Parental pep talk? What is it you really want, Commander?"

"I want the same touching talk you've given the others, the same assurance of support, the same 'my door is always open' speech. I mean, if you skipped having the pep talk with me, someone might guess that we've already discussed it, and we couldn't have that, could we? Someone might jump to conclusions about the identity of my baby's mother."

She closed her eyes briefly at his allegation and then carefully placed her mug on the table. She was too tired for this, too frazzled after a long, boring night on the bridge and the prospect of another shift yet to come. "I think it would be better to discuss this later."

"This time works best for me." His eyes flashed as he settled back on the sofa and crossed his arms. "What is it that you've always said about this situation? I want to get it over with."

"The fact is that we have already discussed it, Commander, and I have nothing to add to that previous discussion. I don't know what else you want me to say."

"I want to hear what the captain told everyone else. Let me help you remember. How about, 'There is nothing I won't do to make accommodations for your baby and keep it safe.' Or maybe this, 'If there's anything I can personally do to make this situation easier for you, the ready room door is always open.' That's what you've told everyone else, isn't it? If you told me something like that, it would suffice--," his voice turned menacing, "although with me, you wouldn't mean a word of it. And then you could pat me on the back as you usher me out the door and no one would suspect the truth. I'm having this meeting as a favor to you! To protect your precious anonymity."

"A favor to me." She blushed and leaned forward, putting her face in her hands. "Chakotay, I know you're angry with me about this, and I don't blame you. I haven't handled this well, and I've apologized for what happened in Joe Carey's quarters. I deeply regret what happened and wish I could change it. You don't have to pour salt in the wounds to get even with me."

"How can I settle for anything less than what's right?"

Her head snapped up. "What's right?"

"You hold all the cards, Kathryn, and you always have."

"I don't feel very powerful at the moment."

"But you are. You're the captain, and you can do or not do whatever you please, and the rest of us simply follow you." He sat looking at her and then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I wonder if you realize how dangerous it is to corner a person. When you leave me with no viable options, I might take chances that I would otherwise never consider."

"Are you trying to threaten me? I haven't left you without options. Once we solve the power problem with the maturation chamber, everything will be fine. Seven thinks she has made great strides, and, if you want, I'll help her work on it. All you have to do is ask me."

"I'm talking about viable options, Captain, not pipe dreams."

"Pipe dreams?"

"Do you really think we can ever devise a chamber that can exist on the minimal power levels you've prescribed? You might as well ask Chell to bake a wedding cake with a light bulb."

She huffed out a breath, leaning back on the sofa and putting a hand to her forehead in frustration. "I'm just being realistic about how much power the ship can spare for this equipment."

"And that's exactly what you're offering, isn't it? 'Spare' power for a type of 'equipment'? Thank God you haven't limited Seven of Nine's regeneration chamber to 'spare' power, or your pet project would have died years ago."

"That does it." Janeway slammed her empty coffee cup down on the table and stood up. "This meeting is over."

"There are ways to guarantee that the chamber gets the power it needs, and you know it. You just aren't willing to slow down, or take less demanding routes, or reallocate power on the ship."

She paused at the stairs to turn to him. "My job as captain is to balance our resources to ensure the best possible chance of completing our mission--without playing favorites. By definition, taking power from one place and giving to another is bound to leave someone on the crew unhappy. Right now, your infant is safe and secure in a stasis chamber that has all the power it needs to function, even when the ship is in dire circumstances. My advice is to leave it there until we find a safe, workable solution."

"And the captain is the one to decide what qualifies as a safe, workable solution."

She crossed her arms across her chest and raised a brow. "That's part of the job."

"Well, I have a proposition for you." He stood up and joined her at the railing. "Let me make the decision. It's my child, after all, and only mine. As its father, I'm the one responsible for its life."

She shook her head. "It's not that easy."

"Why not?"

"Because you aren't being rational about this, Chakotay. You want this baby now, even though you should wait for a better solution, and I can't let you take a risk that puts the child in danger. It isn't fair to the baby, and it isn't fair to the rest of the crew." She turned and started down the stairs to sit at her desk. "You're dismissed."

"I'm not ready to leave."

She froze and then slowly turned to look up at him, her anger at his insubordination clearly written on her face. "Do you want me to call security and have you hauled out of here?"

His voice broke as he said, "You have to raise the power limits you've given us for the chamber. You have to raise them, Kathryn, or we'll never be able to devise a workable solution."

"How do you think I came up with that figure, Commander? Do you think I just picked an impossibly low number out of the air? I spent hours going over Voyager's power usage in the last year, trying to find out what I could guarantee under 'normal' conditions. I allowed a cushion, just in case, and then I crossed my fingers that even that much could be provided without interruption."

"Seven says we'll never come up with a chamber that can work with such little power."

Janeway bit her lip at the note of despair in his voice. "Do you think my goal was to frustrate you and keep your infant from being born?" She waited for his answer. "Well?"

"It's occurred to me." He shrugged his shoulders.

She sagged against her desk in shock. "Do you really believe that?"

He walked past her toward the door, stopping to look her in the eye. "I used to believe in you, Kathryn. I used to believe that you would always do the right thing. I used to admire the way you were so dedicated to duty. I used to trust you."

"And now you don't trust me."

"Now I don't know what to think about you." He took a deep breath and stepped toward to her, standing so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. He reached up and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand; at this distance, she could see that his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. His voice was soft when he finally spoke, but it carried a tone of desperation. "All I feel now is despair. I'm trapped, Kathryn. I have nothing left to lose." He waited a beat before turning toward the door, tossing a last comment over his shoulder, "And that makes me a dangerous man."

Janeway waited until he had left the room before she sat down on one of the chairs that faced her desk, too weak from the tension of the last hour to remain on her feet. She could feel her heart pounding and the palms of her hands turning clammy as she thought about the ominous tone of Chakotay's last words.

She considered calling Tuvok to the ready room and informing him of her first officer's veiled threat, but doing so would also require a discussion of the subject of the underlying disagreement between them. She couldn't do that. Not yet.

Outside the ready room door, she could hear the bridge crew talking and knew she should go out and check the course, review the standing orders, and monitor their work for a few more hours. Later, she could turn the conn over to Tuvok while she made a quick trip below for a bite to eat and a fresh uniform before Alpha shift's staff meeting.

She wondered briefly what Chakotay was thinking about doing. Would he stage a mutiny? Would he undermine her authority, isolating her and making it impossible for her to retain command? Could she afford to leave him as her second in command? Could she justify removing him from his position as first officer?

All because of what the Quarra had done to them. A wave of fury washed over her as she thought of the damage those six months on the planet had done.

She'd lost her best friend.

She'd lost her child.

Worst of all, she'd lost her dream of the future.

She made a quick trip to her private washroom to make sure she looked presentable, and then she looked at herself in the mirror, standing tall and straight as a Starfleet captain should.

"You might be a dangerous man, but don't forget, Chakotay," she said to her absent friend, "that I'm also a dangerous woman."

With that thought in mind, she returned to the bridge.

**Two weeks later, about three and a half months after "Workforce," immediately after "Renaissance Man"**

"No opera!" Janeway ordered as she led the EMH out of sickbay and toward the holodeck for their promised time together.

"What shall we do, then?" the doctor wondered, barely controlling his excitement at spending free time with the captain. "I've never downloaded the physical parameters I would need if you want to play velocity. Perhaps we could play a round of golf?"

"Maybe next time. I have a program I've been running lately that I think you might enjoy. Have you ever heard of barnstorming?"

"Hmmm. Does it have something to do with farming?" He joined her on the turbolift as they made their way to the holodeck.

"Well, it happens out in the countryside, but it has to do with flying. In bi-planes."

"Bi-planes? From twentieth century Earth? Isn't that era Tom Paris' mania?"

She gave him a warning look. "Tom knows nothing about this program, and I don't want him to find out."

"My lips are sealed. Didn't bi-planes have open cockpits?" He followed her out of the lift.

"They sure did. This program is set during the earliest days of Earth's aviation history--the 1920s--a time of the most basic form of flight, simple enough for a single pilot-mechanic to manage alone." They arrived outside the holodeck doors where Janeway spent a few moments initializing the program. "I've been curious about this era all my life, and especially after meeting Amelia Earhardt a few years ago. I finally decided to look into it in more detail."

The double doors opened, and the two of them stepped into a warm summer afternoon somewhere in the heartland of North America. A grass runway was wedged between two cornfields and stretched away from them, while in front of them loomed a large airplane tied down beside an unpainted farm shed. The EMH studied the massive double wings and fuselage, all painted a bright red and white.

"It's huge." He circled the wing of the plane and walked toward the tail. "The wings go on forever."

"It needs the lift of four large wings because the engine is only about 90 horsepower. When the cruising speed is only ninety-seven kph, the wings have to work harder to keep the plane in the air. The aeronautic rule of thumb is, the faster the engine, the smaller the wings." She leaned down and began to loosen the rope that held the right wing to a tire that had been half-buried in the dirt. "If you'll untie the tail, I'll get the other wing, and then I'll take you for a ride."

The doctor headed for the back of the plane. "What kind of bi-plane is this?"

"A Curtiss JN-4D, called a Jenny," she said, keeping up a running banter as she worked. "It was originally built in 1917 and played an instrumental role in the First World War. After the war ended, excess planes were sold at a low price, and soon they were a common sight as pilots flew them all over the continent."

Once they had the plane untied, they easily maneuvered it so that it was poised at the end of the runway while the captain meticulously went over the engine and then took him through the preflight checklist. As she worked, the doctor observed the remote location, taking in the buzzing insects, the smell of farmland, and the humid sunlight splashing all around.

"Ready to attempt flight?" she grinned, gesturing toward the cockpit as she pulled goggles over her head. "You sit up front. I recommend you put on the goggles that are under the seat, unless you like having bugs smack you in the eyes. And don't forget to fasten the seat belt--I'd hate to see your photons splattered all over the countryside."

The EMH settled into the cockpit without the slightest idea of what to expect. He thought they might fly to a neighboring airstrip, enjoying the scenery along the way, or that they might explore the geography of the river that flowed nearby.

Instead, he found himself hanging on for dear life as the captain performed a wide range of stunts, including barrel roles, spins, dives, and loops, all done in the cloudless blue sky with acres of vacant farm fields below. By the time she finally landed the plane nearly an hour later, the doctor was worn out from hanging on during the thrilling stunts and nearly deafened by the noise of the engine and the wind. The world seemed eerily silent as he climbed from the cockpit.

"It's so quiet," he remarked as Janeway helped him to the ground. "Have I gone deaf?"

"Of course not," she smiled, pulling her goggles off of her head. "It's just quiet compared to the noise of the engine."

The doctor hit the side of his head with the palm of his hand. "Remind me to send ear protection with you from now on."

"Good idea. If we hurry and tie down the plane, we'll have a few minutes to relax before our holodeck time is over."

Once the plane was secured, Janeway produced two folding chairs from inside the shed and placed them in the shade where they could watch the bright yellow light of late summer turn to gold. She sipped iced tea from the mouth of an old fashioned thermos and then stretched her legs out in front of her, closed her eyes, and seemed to be lulled to sleep by the familiar sounds of nightfall in North America.

The EMH sat quietly, watching his surroundings and observing his captain with veiled apprehension. She'd changed since their return from Quarra. He was in the unique position of knowing everything about the pregnancies that had complicated the crew's return, and Janeway's dilemma was perhaps the most tragic, since her decision was based more on her sense of duty than on the wishes of her heart.

Tom and B'Elanna were thrilled to be expecting, and three of the five other couples had accepted their plight and were beginning to work toward the shared responsibilities of parenthood. The other woman who had terminated her rights had done so because she was afraid that the pregnancy might damage her long-term partnership with one of Voyager's non-human males. She seemed comfortable with her decision, and both the father and her partner had been completely supportive of the surrogate who was carrying the baby.

Of all the crew affected, only Janeway was facing this crisis privately, without someone who cared about her to support and reassure her, and the doctor worried that she would feel even more isolated once the child was born.

After a few minutes of silence, he said, "Is this setting supposed to be Indiana?"

She squinted one eye open. "It could be. I had the computer produce a rural setting in the Midwest region of North America. Indiana is very much like this."

"It's peaceful and quiet--nothing like a starship."

"Well, that's an understatement if I ever heard one." She smiled and closed her eyes again.

"I had no idea that you knew how to fly an airplane, Captain, much less perform such wonderful stunts."

"My dad believed that flying an airplane was the first step in mastering space travel, so he made sure I got my pilot's license as early as possible. I started flying with him when I was five years old, and I soloed when I was barely sixteen."

"Amazing. It's exhilarating, don't you think?"

"It's a great escape for me. An hour here is almost as good as a week's shore leave."

"I'm guessing that the commander must love flying the Jenny, too. At least, I've heard him talking about flying small planes."

She sat up, gave him a withering look, and slowly drained the rest of the iced tea from the thermos. She seemed fascinated with the ancient container as she slowly screwed the top back on. "Actually, I've never shared this program with Commander Chakotay."

The doctor narrowed his eyes. He'd noticed, of course, that Chakotay and the captain had been spending less time together than they had before their captivity on Quarra, and he'd hoped to have the chance to explore the reason for their estrangement. It had something to do with the child, of course, but he knew that the captain would brook no idle talk on that subject. "I'm surprised to hear that. It seems like an activity he'd enjoy."

"I haven't had the program long." She turned the empty thermos idly in her hands. "After Quarra, when we were struggling to find our balance, I spent a lot of hours developing this scenario. The truth is that you're the first person to fly with me."

"I'm flattered." He studied her face, noticing the circles beneath her eyes, realizing that she'd probably used the program as a diversion as she'd come to terms with her unexpected pregnancy. "I hope you'll invite me again."

"Sure. Next time we can visit a nearby town and put on an air show. Or better yet, we can find a carnival and sell rides to the farmers and their families. Once the sun goes down, we can walk among the crowd, watch the children race from one game of chance to another, ride the Ferris wheel, eat coney dogs and cotton candy."

"I'd like that, Captain--although there is no nutritional value to spun sugar."

"Its pure frivolity is the best thing about it." She measured the height of the sun, noting the time. "However, duty calls." She stood up and carried her chair back inside the shed. "My bridge shift starts in thirty minutes, and I really need to shower first."

The EMH was just about to put his chair beside hers when the intercom activated.

"Torres to Janeway."

"Go ahead, B'Elanna."

"Seven and Chakotay have brought me the 'final' schematics for a maturation chamber, but I think you'd better look at them before we start construction."

The doctor watched as the blood drained from the captain's face and she struggled to maintain her equilibrium. He reached for her, grabbing her elbow to steady her as he whispered, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she answered, and then she cleared her throat and said, "Forward the plans to my ready room and I'll look at them in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Captain. They still haven't solved the power problem, but I get the feeling that they're going to push for moving ahead anyway. I'm worried about keeping it running if we happen to hit a dry spell during the next eight months. We're talking about a baby--."

"Understood, B'Elanna. I'll let you know what I think." The intercom closed, and Janeway slumped against the shed wall, her chin on her chest.

"Sit down before you faint," the doctor ordered, reopening his chair and guiding her into it. "Lean over and put your head over your knees." To his complete surprise, Janeway followed his orders without a murmur of protest.

The doctor knelt beside her, gently rubbing her back as she struggled to recover from her dizzy spell. Her arms were crossed on her knees, cradling her head, and she groaned with obvious distress. She would be upset that he'd witnessed her adverse reaction to Torres' seemingly innocent comment about the maturation chamber. However, Torres didn't know how sensitive the captain was to this problem, while the EMH was aware of the real dilemma she had faced and was able to empathize completely with her emotional turmoil.

He had, after all, witnessed the relationship she'd shared with Chakotay.

_Tuvok and the EMH, who had modified his physical features so that he looked like a young Vulcan, walked into the café and bar across from the Quarran power plant and were greeted by none other than Tom Paris. _

"_We don't get many Vulcans here," Tom said as he seated them. "Are you looking for work?" _

"_Not any more. We start our new jobs tomorrow at the power plant across the street," the doctor replied. "The supervisor said this place is good to their employees." _

"_Absolutely. Working there qualifies you for our ten percent discount! I'm Tom Paris, by the way, and my partner behind the bar is Neelix." _

"_I'm Tuvok, and everyone calls my friend here 'Doc.'" _

"_Well, let me bring you a beer on the house while you look through the menu." _

_Once they were alone, Tuvok said, "I saw no recognition in his eyes at all, did you?" _

"_No, I didn't. I would really like to examine him in Sickbay and find out how they've managed to alter his memory engrams." The EMH surreptitiously opened his tricorder. "There are fifteen human life signs in the bar." _

"_Including the captain and commander." Tuvok moved his eyes toward the window. "They're seated together in the corner booth." _

_The EMH could barely contain his surprise at the altered appearance of Voyager's command team. Janeway's hair was long and loose, curling around her face and shoulders in a very alluring fashion, and she wore what looked to be a blue leather suit that showed off her womanly figure. Chakotay's hair was also longer and styled in a casual fashion that made him look much younger in spite of the sprinking of gray hair. Most surprising was the relaxed and carefree looks on their faces. Gone was the haunted, worried air that seemed to have the captain in its permanent grip. Gone was the busy and officious attitude of the first officer too stressed to think about anything but work. _

_The doctor found himself unable to take his eyes from the familiar pair. He watched Chakotay slip his arm around Janeway's shoulders, pull her close to his side, bury his face in her hair, and whisper something in her ear, words which made Janeway break into a radiant grin, a blush appearing on her face. She shifted in her seat, cupped his cheek in her hand, and gave him a tender kiss. They immediately slid out of the booth and headed for the door, hand-in-hand, while Tuvok and the doctor watched them in rapt fascination. _

"_Amazing, aren't they?" Tom asked as he delivered their beers. "I was here when they first met, and I have to say, it was a 'once-in-a-lifetime' experience. Have you ever heard of the thunderbolt?" _

_The doctor tore his eyes from the door. "The thunderbolt? As in 'love at first sight'?" _

"_Exactly." Tom sat down at the table to chat. "Chakotay was sitting at the bar telling me how lonely he was. He'd arrived a couple of days earlier and was missing the crew of the freighter he'd been serving on. I was telling him to give himself a few days when I noticed that he was staring at someone who'd just walked into the bar—none other than Kathryn Janeway. I thought maybe he'd had a seizure, from the dazed look in his eyes. He finally stopped staring at her long enough to ask her name and offer to take her usual drink to her table. They sat there talking and laughing for hours, as if they were the only two people on the planet, and then they left together—if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows for effect. "They've been together ever since." _

"_They're romantically involved," Tuvok observed, his eyebrow raised in surprise. _

"_You bet they're involved," Tom laughed as he stood up and pulled out his order pad. "Now, did you have a chance to look at the menu?" _

_As Tuvok asked a few questions about the cuisine, the EMH spied the captain and first officer walking slowly away from the bar, their arms wound around each other's waists. _

"_This could be a real complication," he told Tuvok, once Tom had left to order their food. _

"_I hope not," the Vulcan replied, "but I'm afraid you might be right." _

The memory of that romantic scene and dozens of others like it troubled him as he compared it to her current predicament. The contrast between their relationship on Voyager and the one they shared on Quarra was like night and day, and he felt sorry that the strain of their return had damaged the friendship that had sustained them for seven years.

"This is my fault, Captain," he told her as she gradually regained her composure. "I haven't made any headway in solving the surrogate problem, and as a result, Chakotay feels compelled to use the maturation chamber."

"You can hardly be held responsible for the baby having the virus," she answered, her voice muffled by her arms. "I'm more to blame for that than you are."

"Still, I hope we can find a solution that's acceptable to everyone involved." The doctor felt a rush of sympathy for her when he realized that the baby's birth would just bring on another round of guilt and loss. "Have you talked about this with someone?"

She shook her head. "Who would I talk to, Doctor? No one knows the specifics of my situation, and that's the way I want it to be."

"I could listen, and if you're uncomfortable confiding in me, there's always Tuvok. You can trust both of us to protect your privacy."

"It doesn't matter." She sat up and pushed her hands through her hair. "Talking won't help solve the problem. I just need to find a way to live through it." She looked up into the sky, noticing that the wispy cirrus clouds had turned pink in the sunset. "In fact, I appreciate the fact that you haven't approached me about the baby. Chakotay asked me to carry the baby, and I'm afraid my refusal to do so has resulted in a strain between us."

"He asked you to be the surrogate? I can't believe it!"

"It's only logical. I do have an immunity to the virus."

"If you're thinking I told him you would be a good surrogate, I can assure you I did not."

The captain looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, taking a deep breath to insure that her equilibrium had returned. "He assumed that I was the baby's mother, and so did I. It makes sense that the baby got the virus from both of us."

"He was guessing, Captain. I haven't told anyone that--." He stopped short, his mouth hanging open.

"That I am the baby's mother," she finished for him, her blue eyes icy cold. "We both know that I was the mother of one of the babies, so it makes sense that was carrying Chakotay's baby, wasn't I?"

He stared at her a moment and then swallowed. "You've asked me not to reveal this kind of information to those who have terminated their parental rights."

"Chakotay is my first officer, Doctor. He believes I'm the mother of his child, and the end result has been a difficult if not impossible work relationship," she stood up and looked every inch a Starfleet captain giving a subordinate a direct order. "I have to know the truth if I'm to continue to work with him for the next thirty-five years. I need to know what I'm up against."

The doctor hesitated, and then slumped slightly. "You're the baby's mother."

Janeway turned away quickly, muttering something under her breath, and when the doctor started to say something more, she held up a hand to stop him. "I appreciate your honesty, Doctor. That will be all."

He watched as she walked briskly to the bi-plane, crossed her arms on the fuselage, and buried her face in them. He'd never felt more helpless.

When they'd rescued her from Quarra, Kathryn Janeway had been the personification of joy, a radiant, vivacious woman hopelessly in love with a man who adored her. Now her life was in shambles and she was in danger of losing the one friendship that had sustained her over the last seven years. He walked up behind her and paused, surprised to discover that she was whispering to herself when he had expected her to be crying.

"If you want to reconsider your decision," he began, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "I'm sure the commander would be willing to--."

She whirled around, her face a mask of hostility as she replied, "I thought my decision through completely before I made it, Doctor, and I'm not about to change my mind simply because I've discovered the identity of the child's father."

He stepped back in shock at the waves of righteous fury that poured off of her. "I see."

"Computer, end program." For a moment, the two of them stood facing each other in the silence of the holodeck's black and yellow grid, and then she took another ragged breath, fists at her side. "We've been grievously damaged, Doctor, by people who were too short-sighted and selfish to care whether their meddling would ruin lives and destroy friendships and complicate already impossible situations. If I could get my hands on the doctor who did this to us, I'd . . . ." She looked down, struggling to control her temper. Finally, she brushed past him on her way to the exit. "If I don't leave right this minute, I'll be late for my shift."

The EMH stood alone in the silent confines of the holodeck.

**One week later, during "Endgame," basically a continuation of the conversation between Captain Janeway and Admiral Janeway when the admiral tells her younger self about the disasters she faced on the rest of her trip to the AQ. **

Kathryn Janeway stared in disbelief at the older version of herself while members of the crew glided past them in the passageway, pretending not to notice the animosity that bristled between them.

The captain struggled to comprehend the significance of everything the admiral had told her about the future--twenty-two more deaths, including Seven of Nine, sixteen more years of exile, permanent estrangement from her first officer, and the loss of Tuvok to a rare neurological disease. As much as she wanted to label all of it as lies being told to manipulate her into doing the admiral's bidding, she could tell by the defiant, almost triumphant look on her counterpart's face that it was the absolute truth. The older woman's final challenge echoed in her head.

"Can I let this 'golden opportunity' to get the crew home pass me by?" she repeated, drawing herself up to her full height. "You bet I can, Admiral, if using that chance can critically damage the Borg." She pointed in the general direction of the nebula. "We're going to destroy the transwarp hub whether you help us or not."

"It will never work," the admiral admonished her, but Janeway had already strode past her, anxious to find Tuvok and confirm her allegation about a neurological illness. The admiral's eyes flashed icy blue. "And then, of course, there's the baby." She smiled slightly when the captain froze, her hand touching the wall to keep her balance.

"The baby?"

"I can't believe that you've waited so long to ask! Still in a state of denial, I guess."

Janeway was suddenly aware of their very public location and opened the door to a deserted science lab. "We'll talk in here."

By the time the admiral entered the room, Janeway had fled to the far side, putting as much distance as possible between them. The admiral looked around at the deserted lab, taking in the surroundings with obvious interest. "Strange to see this room like this. We converted this section of the deck into a playroom and a schoolroom as the children grew."

The captain was in no mood for chitchat. "Just tell me what I need to know."

"If that's what you want. The first babies born--Tom and B'Elanna's and the other four--arrived without too much fanfare, even though they were the best morale boost we'd ever had." She paused, almost feeling sorry for her younger self who stood with her back turned. "But the last one, Chakotay's child . . . are you sure you want to hear this? I'm afraid it will upset you."

"Please, get it over with," she answered through gritted teeth.

"If you insist." The admiral gathered her thoughts as she perched on a lab stool and leaned against the counter top. "My past was identical to yours, of course, until I arrived from the future a few days ago. We fled from the nebula, just as you did, which was, by the way, the only decision you could make at the time. We didn't have the knowledge or the tools to survive long in such a hotbed of Borg activity." She paused, but the captain simply nodded. "B'Elanna has her baby in a few days time, and a few months later, the other four come along."

"And the last one?"

"Chakotay's daughter?" She let that bit of information sink in. "As you know, there were significant complications because of the virus. The maturation chamber they'd designed was a dreadful power hog, and Seven hadn't yet found a way to reduce the usage to a level I could accept. The two of them became quite a team and were soon convinced that my reservations were more personal than professional. They thought I was dragging my feet because I was jealous of them, because I couldn't bear to see them parent the child together. Without me." She paused to regain control of her emotions. "Even the crew felt that way, I found out later. So, they waited patiently for the chance to take matters into their own hands."

Janeway turned to face her. "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. A few months from now, we come across a sector of space controlled by the Nacretti. We'd heard that they were traders and expected to barter for passage across their space and purchase us some anti-matter injectors that were closer to Starfleet specs. Tuvok, B'Elanna, and I visited their home world, leaving Chakotay in command, and while we were away . . . ." She stopped again, closing her eyes at the memory.

But the captain guessed what had happened. "They assembled the chamber."

The older woman nodded. "The Nacretti were not at all what we expected them to be." She gave the captain a bitter look. "The crew had no way of knowing that the Nacretti jammed communications since just after our departure. We were unable to warn them about the squadron of fighters that was chasing us back to the ship, anxious to capture Voyager and force the crew to settle on some nice colony planet. The Flyer was barely in the shuttle bay when the first salvo of Nacretti phasers hit our shields."

The captain took a step toward her. "Oh, my God. The chamber."

"I had no idea that the chamber had been brought online, nor did anyone think to tell me about it during the chaos of battle. I raced to the bridge, returned fire, and struggled to get the hell out of Nacretti space with Voyager in one piece." The admiral was now reciting the story with a glazed look in her eye, recalling the events by memory. "In the years since, I've studied every decision I made during that battle a thousand times, trying to think of anything that I could have done differently. It was a fierce, running battle, and although we were heavily out-numbered, Voyager held her own, knocking down wave after wave of attackers while taking unbelievable punishment."

"No, please," the captain begged. "Don't tell me that the chamber was deprived of power during the battle."

The admiral's eyes filled with tears. "Multiple times."

The captain sat down heavily on a stool and buried her face in her arms on the lab table. Her voice was muffled, "And the baby?"

"By some miracle, the baby survived. The doctor did what he could to reverse the damage, but when the harm is done so early in the pregnancy, there's little that can be done. And, besides, there were two more times that the chamber failed before it completely broke down--after six months." The admiral took a deep breath. "Taya weighed three pounds, but she was a fighter and lived through it all. Even so, the harm had been done. She never spoke a word, never walked a step, never even learned to feed herself. But she was the favorite mascot of the crew, a beautiful, smiling doll, always happy, always flirting."

"I knew the maturation chamber was a bad idea," the captain replied, looking up. "I've already warned Chakotay a dozen times."

"So did I--two dozen times. But, really, what other choice did he have? He wasn't about to wait another sixteen years to be a father, and I wasn't about to go through a pregnancy."

The captain sat up in her chair and studied the older woman carefully, realizing that both of them had given up their parental rights. "Do you regret that decision?"

"Oh, Captain, don't get me started on my regrets." The admiral stood up and walked to the narrow viewport where she spent several minutes staring at the stars. When she spoke again, her voice was a whisper. "Chakotay was an amazing father, just as I knew he would be. He loved Taya fiercely and kept her with him whenever his duties allowed. When he couldn't, Seven of Nine stepped in, or, when they were both busy, any number of the crew. He and Seven grew closer because of Taya, and they eventually married. I tried to be happy for them. They were happy together, and even though Taya was never going to be a normal child, she was the light of their lives."

"You told me Seven was killed."

"Yes. She was seriously injured on an away mission and died in his arms." The admiral reached up to brush tears from her eyes. "What I didn't tell you is that she died saving my life."

The captain closed her eyes. "I was afraid of something like that."

"After that, Chakotay focused all of his attention on Taya. The doctor had warned us that her lifespan would be short, but three years? She was still just a baby when she died, about a year after Seven."

The captain shuddered. "And that was my fault as well."

The admiral turned to face her, her eyes red from repressed tears. "Chakotay blamed me, and I blamed the Quarrans, but, whoever was at fault, we all suffered. I saw Taya as a mistake that should never have happened, wouldn't have happened except for the meddling done by those damned Quarran doctors. Chakotay saw her as a unexpected gift, a prized possession to be treasured and cherished at any cost. I was just too blind to see past my anger to the human life at stake. Too blind and too dedicated to duty."

The lab was silent, and then the captain stood up and walked to the admiral's side. "You came back for Taya. To save her life."

"And Seven. Chakotay. Tuvok. The whole crew." She sighed. "But, yes, Taya's the one who truly matters to me. If you go back now, they can find a way for her to be born healthy and happy. Doesn't she deserve that? She's an innocent baby who did nothing wrong except have the bad luck of being conceived at a time that was inconvenient to her driven and merciless mother. She deserves a chance at life."

"That's why you want us to forget about the hub and just go home." The captain felt a tide of sorrow rise within her as the familiar dilemma faced her--the tension between her personal desires and the demands of her position. "I can't let the fate of one or two people sway me from my duty, Admiral."

"I knew you'd say that." She closed her eyes in a vain attempt to control her temper. "I told the doctor that you would never yield, never agree to carry the baby. I'll be surprised if you carry her even if this hair-brained plan of yours works."

"As captain, my duty is clear. Maybe you've forgotten that, but I can't."

"Why the hell not?" The admiral's fury was scalding hot. "What did doing my duty really accomplish, Captain? A lonely life. A shattered crew. An interminable exile. A poor handicapped baby. Take advantage of the technology I've brought with me and get this crew home. Now."

"You know I can't do that." The captain headed for the door. "You know I won't."

"You didn't ask about the baby's looks." The admiral watched as her younger self once again stopped in her tracks.

"I don't want to hear any more."

But, the admiral pushed on. "She looked like me, only with dark hair and eyes. Once she was born, there was no longer any question about who her mother was, even though I refused to claim her. Her hair was dark with a red tint, and her brown eyes were shaped just like mine. But it was her crooked smile that was the real giveaway, and she was such a happy baby--"

"Enough! No more!"

The admiral sighed as her younger self stormed out of the lab. She rubbed her face with her hands, wondering what else she could do to force them to use the transwarp hub before they lost their chance.

But the memories refused to leave her. She thought of the battles she and Chakotay had waged. Not long after the nebula, the worst of all, the final straw.

_Chakotay stood defiantly in front of her desk and handed her a PADD. "Seven of Nine thinks she has a solution to the power problems. She's designed an automatic 'stasis' field that will kick in whenever there's a sudden drop in power." _

_Janeway studied at the report briefly before placing it on her desk. "I've thought of that, and I can tell you that it won't work. The slightest delay between the drop of power and the activation of the stasis field will mean that the baby could be seriously and permanently affected. It's too dangerous." _

_"Everything worth having involves risk." _

_"Not when a child's life hangs in the balance." _

_"As the child's only parent, I have the right to decide what's best, and I think this is worth a try." _

_"As captain, I also have to consider what's best for the crew." _

_He put his hands on the desk, towering over her. "Trying to convince you is an effort in futility. Perhaps I should just terminate the pregnancy." _

_Janeway paled and tore her eyes away from his. "Of course you won't. I've volunteered to help you with this chamber a dozen times, but you've always refused. I've begged you to bring B'Elanna in on the planning." _

_"We don't want your help." _

_"'We' don't want help. I assume you mean you and Seven of Nine." _

_"Does that bother you, Captain?" He smirked. "Angry because I've deprived you of time with your surrogate daughter?" _

_"Of course not!" She stood up and glared at him. "I'm only worried about the child's safety and well-being." She picked the PADD up and held it toward him. "I won't allow you to implement this technology until I'm convinced that Voyager can support it adequately for eight full months. Is that clear?" _

_Chakotay stood up straight, as well, snatching the PADD from her hand. "It's clear, all right." He relaxed slightly, studying the data once again. "Have you forgotten, Kathryn, what it's like to have someone else make all the decisions for you? Have you been captain so long that you no longer understand how important it is to have some control over what happens in your life?" _

_"Is that what you think this is about, Chakotay? Control?" _

_"My people believe that we make decisions based on our perception of reality. Your reality seems to focus too much on control and not enough on faith." _

_She crossed her arms over her chest. "It probably seems that way to you. I want you to know that I'll gleefully approve of a maturation chamber as soon as I'm convinced it can work properly. I want this baby to have every chance at a normal life." _

_He looked up and studied her face for a long time before he nodded. "Then we'll continue to work toward a chamber you can accept." _

_"I'm still willing to help, if you'll let me." _

_"No thanks." And with that, he turned and left the room. _

_Janeway collapsed into her chair, emotionally drained, nearly trembling with exhaustion. She wondered how much longer this could go on before everything came crashing down around her ears. _

The admiral shook herself out of her memory.

"Seven of Nine," she said to herself, shaking her head to clear the last shreds of the unhappy memory from her mind. "Maybe she'll listen to reason."

Meanwhile, Captain Janeway strode toward the turbolift, tapping her commbadge to contact Tuvok.

"Yes, Captain," came the Vulcan's response.

"I need to talk to you about a personal matter. Where are you right now?"

"I'm in my quarters."

"I'll be there in five minutes." She entered the lift, nodded at its occupants, and ordered the correct floor, standing tall and aloof, as always, until the others disembarked. Finally alone, she slumped against the wall. "Computer, halt turbolift."

The admiral's story had nearly made her physically ill, and even now she fought against waves of nausea. Dizzy and disoriented, she slid down the wall to the floor where she looped her arms around her knees and rested her head on them, tears streaming down her face.

Since she'd first heard that the baby carried the dormant New Earth virus, she'd worried that Chakotay would push for a quick solution that would result in a disaster like the one the admiral had described to her. He'd brushed aside her warnings, deliberately turning away from her and toward the one person who could help him—Seven of Nine.

She tried to remember the last time they'd had a friendly conversation, one that hadn't been complicated by their disagreement over the baby, but it had been too long. She missed his friendship and had nearly panicked when the admiral said she might lose it for good. How would she survive without Chakotay and Tuvok at her side? How had the admiral survived? The thought of it nearly overwhelmed her.

"Tuvok to Janeway. It's been nearly fifteen minutes. Do you still wish to meet with me?"

She tapped her commbadge as she stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I was delayed en route. I'll be there right away." She broke the connection and then ordered the turbolift to resume its journey.

In her mind's eye, she could picture a little girl with Chakotay's brown eyes, with reddish-brown hair, and a crooked Janeway smile. She'd make sure that the Nacretti disaster didn't happen in this timeline, and she hoped that someday she'd see that little girl in real life, even if she would always be Chakotay's daughter and never her own.

"I'm sorry, Taya," she whispered, choking back more tears. "I'm sorry that I have to be the captain instead of your mother. Forgive me. Please, forgive me."

to be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**Ties that Bind **by mizvoy

See Part 1 for disclaimer

**PART 3**

**Several weeks after Part 2 (and following the conclusion of "Endgame")**

"You can't be serious." Kathryn Janeway dragged her attention from Voyager's EMH to Admiral Carol Jocasta, the chief of Starfleet counseling, for confirmation. "You have records from Quarra? What kind of records?"

"Everything we could find about the crew," the doctor answered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Employment records, medical files, personal journals, photographs, letters."

Janeway was so amazed that she stared at him open-mouthed until she finally recovered her voice. "You've kept this information hidden from me for all these months?"

"If you recall, Captain, the decision was made to shield the crew from this 'lost period' of their lives, and so I sealed and encrypted them."

"Why didn't you just delete them?"

He gave her a condescending smile. "The files, especially the work and medical ones, were instrumental in the restoration of your memories."

"And the other records? The journals, letters, and pictures? What possible good can come from keeping those?"

"He kept them on my advice, Captain," Jocasta broke in. "There was the possibility that some of you might spontaneously regain troublesome portions of your memories or that some complication might arise based on 'repressed' experiences from your time on Quarra. These records would provide invaluable background information for treating those problems."

Janeway could feel her heart pounding. "They could also create incredible conflict between members of the crew."

"At first, that might have been true," the doctor interjected. "When you initially returned, everyone was tentative about what this 'other self' might have done. But, most of the crew has distanced themselves from the event, and those who were caught up in more complicated situations have had time to discuss and work through what happened to them."

Jocasta agreed. "It's significant that four of the six couples have re-established a relationship that will allow them to parent their child, and the fifth has managed to find a way to include the third partner. I think their success shows us that the best way to deal with this is to get everything out in the open."

"Are you suggesting that we open these files to the crew?" Janeway asked, stunned at the sudden turn of events and hesitant to mention the fact that the sixth couple, Chakotay and herself, had seen their close friendship torn to shreds by what had happened on Quarra. "Let people access their records, just like that?"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," Jocasta answered her, holding up a hand to stop her from protesting. "I can understand why you implemented this no-tell policy on the ship, but time has passed, and we should be willing to make the necessary adjustments. No one did anything to be ashamed of on Quarra, Captain, and keeping secrets only leads to unnecessary speculation and uncertainty. One week from today, the doctor will give everyone access to the Quarran files that were about them and to their personal journals or logs. Whether they take advantage of the opportunity to review the material will be up to them."

"So why am I here?" Jeneway fumed, wishing she could stand up and scream her objections at the top of her lungs. "You've already made up your mind. You don't want my opinion."

"Protocol requires that I inform the ship's captain when I'm reversing a significant policy established while in deep space, even when I'm confident that the change is in the crew's best interest." Jocasta hesitated, taking in the fury that Janeway was struggling to control. "Captain, does your negative reaction to this indicate that you remain troubled by what happened to you on Quarra? If so, I want to offer you my services should you need to work through some lingering problems."

Janeway pulled herself to her full height and shook her head. "I'm not convinced that this is the best course of action, Admiral, but I acknowledge that you are the expert, and I know how to follow orders. As for my personal reaction to this, I have no desire to talk about that with you or anyone else."

"Very well. The offer stands, nonetheless." The admiral's eyes shone with empathy. "I promise you it's for the best, Captain." She paused, as if waiting for something else to be said before she finally dismissed them.

Janeway and the EMH walked out of the admiral's office suite in complete silence. Once they were in the quadrangle of Starfleet Headquarters, the doctor began to hum quietly to himself, enjoying the warm afternoon and the buzz of people passing them on the sidewalk. Suddenly he realized that the captain was no longer walking beside him and turned to find her standing in the middle of the sidewalk glaring at him, fists on her hips, eyes blazing.

"Captain?"

"Why the hell didn't you tell me about these 'files' from Quarra?"

He stepped back in surprise at her vehemence. "You said to protect everyone from what happened. You even said that you preferred to know as little as possible about what happened."

"I didn't mean that you should hide something this important from the captain of the ship."

"During the period of your absence on Quarra, I frequently consulted with Starfleet about the situation. When I told the counselors of your captivity and of the memory loss I knew would occur when you returned to duty, they recommended that I gather relevant files in case I would need them during your readjustment--and they did come in handy. It's important to keep in mind that you received alien medical treatment and--." His voice trailed off as the captain strode past him like a locomotive with a full head of steam. He hurried to catch up with her. "Captain?"

"If we were still on Voyager," she muttered through gritted teeth, "I'd . . . I'd--." She stopped so quickly that the doctor nearly ran into her. She stared at the brickwork of the walkway. "You had no right to hide that material without at least informing me of its existence. As captain of the ship, I need to have access to any and all information that might affect the crew's well-being and performance of duty."

The doctor was insulted by her lack of faith in him. "Begging your pardon, but is it the captain who's upset about this or is it Kathryn Janeway?"

The captain was trembling with anger, her quiet voice filled with restrained emotion, as she answered his accusation, "Doctor, don't you dare start this with me. I'm furious that you neglected to inform me of this information and that I find out about it seven months after we left Quarra and from someone who isn't even part of the crew." She waited a moment, closing her eyes as she took a deep, calming breath. "Is there anything in these documents I need to know?"

"Not on an official basis," he started, "but . . . some of the data is rather personal."

"Personal in what way?" She steeled herself for the answer. When the doctor paused, she glared at him. "Well?"

"The Quarrans made sure that the humans lived and worked in close proximity, no doubt in order to encourage you to make friends and be happy workers. I've told you that the crew spent a great deal of time with each other in their off-duty hours." He smiled at her tentatively, but plunged on when she simply waited for the other shoe to fall. "I haven't read the personal journals, but I wouldn't be surprised to learn that many of them made note of each others' relationships in their personal logs."

Janeway rubbed her temples with her fingertips, realizing that her romance with Chakotay would probably be documented in the crew's records as well as their own. "You mean they probably talked about couples who were together on the planet."

"Well, yes." He paused, hesitant to continue. "And then there were the weddings."

Her head snapped up. "Weddings? I thought only Tom and B'Elanna got married on Quarra."

"There were eight weddings among the crew." His eyes widened as his captain's face grew pale with shock and she seemed unsteady on her feet. "Are you all right?"

She crossed her arms across her chest and shook her head slightly. "Just get on with it."

"Tom and B'Elanna's marriage was the only one we didn't have annulled, since they were already married on Voyager."

"Oh, my God." Janeway stumbled to a nearby bench where she collapsed and leaned forward to cradle her head in her hands. The world was spinning and she was struggling to keep from throwing up.

"Captain?" the doctor asked as he sat down beside her on the bench, nodding at passersby to assure them that everything was under control. He lowered his voice, "Annulments of this sort are justified when the crew enters the marriage in an altered state, as you know. The regulations require us to dissolve marriages made while individuals were not their 'real' selves, and so we worked with the Quarrans to do so."

"That's not the problem," she sighed as she sat up and pushed her hair back from her face with both hands. "It's not that the annulments were inappropriate. It's just that . . . I should have been informed of all of this, Doctor. I assure you that I'll be speaking to Tuvok about this omission at my first opportunity."

"I'm sorry, Captain. Perhaps I didn't think it through."

She shifted to face him. "These marriages. Is there anything else you've withheld from me? Anything else that might hit me blindsided?"

"One thing." He looked terribly uncomfortable.

"Let me guess," she tried not to let her voice betray the foreboding that gripped her. "I was one of the crew who got married."

The doctor nodded, unwilling to look her in the eye.

"And the record of my marriage and annulment will be part of what Admiral Jocasta makes available to the crew next week? To me and my . . . ex-husband."

He nodded again, glancing up at her briefly, "Although I'm not quite sure the term 'ex-husband' would apply."

"I assume that the crew's journals will have interesting details about our courtship and marriage. And God knows what else." She stood up, her voice gaining volume as she began to pace back and forth in front of the bench. "Employment problems. Illnesses. Failed romances. Weddings." She stopped and closed her eyes. "And maybe even the decision to become pregnant and start a family."

"Captain, we shouldn't talk about this in public," the doctor said, getting up and propelling her toward a small alcove, waiting until they had a modicum of privacy before continuing. "As the admiral said, most of the crew has come to terms with what happened on Quarra. These things will be set aside as something in the past--a mere curiosity."

"The problem is that not everything that happened on Quarra is going to remain in the past."

"I beg your pardon?"

She narrowed her eyes. "The babies are very 'real' in the present and will be even more 'real' in the future." She put her fists on her hips. "Won't the crew be amazed to find out that the captain was the cold-hearted bitch who refused to carry her own baby? And won't they be astounded to learn that she wouldn't change her mind, even when the baby's life was threatened by complications? Even after the long-suffering father pleaded for her help? Even after the ship returned to the Alpha Quadrant?"

For a moment, the doctor simply opened and closed his mouth in surprise, but then he said, "I'm sure they'll understand."

"Will they understand, Doctor? Will they? I'm not even sure I do." She wrung her hands and turned away from him. "I don't think Chakotay understands, and I know Taya won't."

"Taya?" The doctor frowned, trying to think of when and where he'd heard the name.

"Never mind," she said, pausing to look at him in despair. "It's too late now. If the crew sees me as an insensitive bitch, well, I deserve what I get. No one can really avoid the consequences of a decision, you know. Sooner or later 'the chickens come home to roost,' as my grandmother used to say, and that's how it should be. I'm not going to hide the truth any longer." With that, she turned and walked away from him, ending the conversation. "That's all, Doctor. I'll be expecting to hear from you in one week."

The doctor resisted the urge to follow her and attempt to convince her that everything would work out. She needed time alone to come to terms with what had happened, and he would have another chance to reassure her.

What concerned him was her use of the name Taya when she referred to the child. The EMH remembered that Chakotay intended to use the name "Taya" if the baby was a girl, but he doubted that the captain would ever have gotten to the point of discussing names with her first officer. In addition to that, only he knew the baby was a female, and since he hadn't told anyone, there was no way the captain could know.

So how had she known? Unless she could see into the future . . . or unless someone had told her about the future.

He knew at once that Admiral Janeway had told her about the baby. He knew that she'd tried to use her knowledge of the future to manipulate the crew, and she wouldn't have hesitated to use information about the baby to influence the captain. She'd even tried to enlist his help.

_The night before their second, and successful, attempt to return the AQ through the nebula, the admiral had activated Voyager's EMH just hours before the mission was to begin. He became conscious of the sickbay, as he always did when he came online unexpectedly, and quickly ascertained that the facility was empty except for Admiral Janeway. _

"_If you're wondering about the Borg virus," he said, anticipating the reason for her presence, "it won't be ready for several more hours."_

"_That's not why I'm here." She fingered an isolinear chip before extending it to him. "I was hoping to be with you when you made use of this information, but my plans have changed." _

_He took the chip and sat down at his desk to review the contents, his eyes nearly popping out as the data scrolled by. "Amazing. This is an astounding compilation of data on artificial gestation devices and viral medicine from dozens of different species." _

"_All of it collected between here and the Alpha Quadrant. It became a favorite hobby of mine." Her eyes were luminous with tears. "Perhaps 'obsession' would be a better word."_

_He nodded, thinking of the tiny embryo in stasis in his lab. For a moment, he considered asking her to tell him what happened to the baby in her future, but then he thought better of it. He could tell that she was already distressed, and he didn't want to add to her discomfort. He looked up from his screen and said, "This is just a compilation of raw data. I don't see that you've worked toward a real solution to the baby's problem." _

"_That's true, I haven't. You see, in my timeline, the maturation chamber failed." She turned away, suddenly fascinated by the data displayed on a nearby wall panel. "The father was too impatient and frustrated to wait for us to find a solution to the power problems and relied instead on Seven's 'stasis' solution." _

"_The chamber failed? You mean . . . the baby died?" _

"_No, she didn't die, but she suffered irreparable brain damage. She lived almost three years, although--." Her voice was a whisper. She cleared her throat. "I don't know why I picked up all of that research when it was too late to be of any help. Maybe, in the back of my mind, I hoped to make a difference, somehow." _

_"It will make a difference." He looked at the data again, scrolling through page after pace of a detailed index. "However, even with this help, there is still a great deal of work to be done. Essentially, we're trying to build an artificial womb." _

"_I know. That's why you must force the father to wait until you're sure the chamber will function properly. Promise me that you'll make him wait." _

"_I promise." He circled the desk to stand beside her. He'd noticed that she'd referred to the "father" rather than using Chakotay's name, a deliberate and significant choice. "Have you shown this information to the captain?" _

_She answered with a short laugh. "No, I haven't shown it to her or to anyone else. And I don't want you to show it to her, either. Not until the time is right."_

"_If we're successful in returning to Federation space," he argued, "perhaps the captain will relent." _

"_And carry the baby herself?" She laughed again. "How well do you really know her, doctor?" _

_He bristled, unwilling to have his captain criticized even by an older version of herself. "Better than you think," he quipped. _

_The admiral sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose to ease the headache that threatened to blossom there. "I just meant that she's unwilling to be perceived as weak or vulnerable, and she's used to denying herself as a way of atoning for her actions. She'd refuse just to make herself miserable." _

"_I can't disagree with that," he answered; after all, this sad and tormented woman was the living result of the captain's habit of self-denial. _

"_If this precarious plan of hers works and you manage to get home soon, then you can share this with Starfleet medical and help them develop a workable chamber. If the plan fails . . . well, either way, you have the information to help you."_

"_Perhaps if you talked to her, you could help her change her mind." _

"_Talk to her about the pregnancy?" She shook her head, her eyes sad. "Only one person could sway her to change her mind, but he's too angry, and it's simply too late." She stopped, too embarrassed to continue. "You'll know when to tell them about this, Doctor. In addition to the raw data, I've included a few pictures and a message I made for them. Use them if you must." _

_She'd left a short time later, and he'd stored the information in an encrypted file for later use. _

Now, as he watched the captain's figure disappear into her office building, he resisted the urge to run after her and beg her to reconsider her decision. Perhaps the admiral had been right and only Chakotay could change the captain's mind, but the doctor doubted that the commander would discuss the subject with her again.

He wished he could force the two parents to address their mutual problem together. Chakotay wanted to give his child the best possible chance at life, and the doctor knew that convincing the captain to carry the baby was the only one that was guaranteed to work.

If only Chakotay would swallow his pride and give the captain a chance to change her mind about the pregnancy. If only the captain would realize that she was now in a position to change her mind.

He decided to think of a way to force them to work together.

**One week later**

In the week that followed her meeting with the EMH and Admiral Jocasta, Kathryn Janeway's feelings wavered between anger, fear, and resignation.

There were times when she was so furious over the way the doctor had hidden the Quarran information from her that she was tempted to access the doctor's program and decompile it one byte at a time.

There were times when her anger gave way to fear at how the crew would react to her decisions and how soon someone would leak her involvement with Chakotay to the press. She knew the reporters would have a field day exploiting the fact that a romance had developed between herself and her first officer, even if their memories had been altered when it had occurred, and she dreaded having to answer questions from both journalists and higher command.

Then her fear was replaced by the feelings of helplessness. She'd made a decision that she couldn't change; too much had happened in the last months of their journey for her to expect Chakotay to relent and give her a second chance. She didn't even feel that she deserved such an opportunity. Being home again meant taking orders again and living with the consequences of her actions in the Delta Quadrant, both professionally and personally.

Eventually, toward the end of the week, she calmed down enough to discuss the situation with Admiral Jocasta.

"You shouldn't be embarrassed about what happened on Quarra," the admiral reassured her. "You decided to give up the pregnancy because of your duties as Voyager's captain, and anyone could understand the reasoning behind that."

That was the extent of the professional comfort Admiral Jocasta had offered, yet it wasn't very helpful in the long run. Janeway still felt sick at her stomach every time she imagined reviewing the Quarran logs made by her "other" self, and she nearly panicked when she thought about the rest of the crew confirming that she'd been involved with Chakotay on Quarra.

Why couldn't she put it behind her focus on her work? Why did her mind continually drift off to contemplate what kind of intimate details her personal record might contain?

Every time she slipped into an exhausted sleep, she awakened from bizarre nightmares and terrifying scenarios, including press conferences in which she was asked why she had turned her back on a baby that was her own flesh and blood or confrontations with various members of the crew about failing to support her first officer. In spite of Jocasta's reassurance, she was still not comfortable with the decisions that she'd made, or she wouldn't be so upset about them.

The day before the Quarran material was to be delivered, Janeway received a last-minute summons to appear at a diplomatic reception for the new Cardassian military attaché.

"Admiral Hayes," she protested as soon after the orders arrived, "I'm afraid I've scheduled some much-needed leave starting tomorrow and won't be able to attend the reception. In fact, I have the next three days off so that I can deal with some sensitive personal issues."

"Kathryn, I know you deserve a break, but this will be just a very slight delay--a few hours at most," he replied. "The Cardassians are still rattling their swords over Voyager's Maquis, wanting us to turn them over for prosecution, and the President thinks your presence will let them know that we aren't about to do that."

Janeway felt her mouth go dry at the mention of the Maquis and the threat posed by the Cardassians who wanted revenge. "Has Chakotay been invited to this reception, as well?"

"We've stopped short of that gesture, for now," Hayes answered, frowning. "Perhaps in a few weeks, once this man knows we mean business, we'll bring the commander into this. For now, we think you will be sufficient notice that we will not turn the Maquis over to them."

She was torn, as usual, between her personal desires and her official duties, and decided to make one last plea for a reprieve. "Sir, I wouldn't ask to be excused except for a matter of great personal import."

"Captain, I don't want to make this an order," the Chief of Staff warned her, "but I will if I have to."

"No, sir, that won't be necessary. I'll be there."

What choice did she have? The next day, she put on her formal uniform and arrived in New York City to do her duty, as usual. While the members of her crew poured over the details of their lives on Quarra, she was rubbing elbows with the Cardassian attaché and his staff, smiling through gritted teeth at their polite jokes and sampling fresh regova eggs, sem'hal stew and tojal, both served with delicate yamok sauce, and a weird blue and white zabu stew, washed down with Cardassian ale and several shots of a thick, powerful drink called kanar.

Hating the Cardassians as she did and resenting the fact that she had to attend the reception, Janeway quickly worked the room and then found a remote table at the fringe of the celebration where she quietly overindulged in the kanar. She felt sick at her stomach from the strange food and more than a little tipsy from the Cardassian alcohol when she arrived at the transport station in Manhattan when the reception ended.

The transport chief noticed her inebriation and said, "Captain, since you've just come from a diplomatic function, I'm authorized to beam you directly to your home address."

She blushed in embarrassment. "Actually, chief, I'm thinking that the walk from the neighborhood transport station might do me good."

"You have a point," he said, grinning at her. "Energizing."

Although it was only about 7 p.m. in San Francisco, the sun had disappeared behind a heavy bank of clouds that continued to blanket the entire Bay region in a light mist. Janeway "borrowed" one of the umbrellas at the station and walked into the cool damp air, relieved to find the temperature brisk enough to counteract some of the effects of the kanar. However, it did nothing to lessen the growing taste of metal in the back of her throat.

The walk gave her time to think about the Quarran data awaiting her attention. The rest of the crew had received their information hours ago, while she was brooding at the reception, and she wondered whether any of them had decided that their captain was indeed the heartless "Ice Queen" they'd always suspected her to be. She imagined that a few of them might be itching to write her a poison pen letter about her dogged dedication to duty.

She cut through a small park across the street from her house, enjoying the welcome smell of Earthly vegetation and the distinctive aroma of the rain, and then she came to a complete stop. A familiar figure was waiting for her on the front stairs of her house.

Chakotay. He'd obviously been sitting there for quite some time, for his hair, which had grown longer since their return, was plastered to his head by the rain, and his clothing looked to be soaked through. They hadn't seen each other in over a week, since before they'd become aware of the Quarran files, and so Janeway was initially glad he was there, only to realize a moment later that he must have an ulterior motive. She assumed that he'd long since reviewed his logs and data from Quarra, and wondered what he'd read that had brought him to her door so quickly.

They stared at each for a few moments before he finally cleared his throat and said, "How was the Cardassian reception?"

She snorted. "It would have been fine, except that someone invited a bunch of Cardassians."

"Too bad someone didn't warn you about the kanar."

She felt another blush warm her face. "Is my condition obvious from across the street?"

"Let's just say you didn't exactly traverse the park in a straight line and leave it at that."

"You're soaking wet," she said as she crossed the street. "Why didn't you wait inside?"

"I didn't know if I'd be welcome."

His words surprised and dismayed her. She paused to look up at him, and then tapped her door code into the entry pad, gesturing for him to enter ahead of her. "My friends are always welcome in my home, Chakotay."

"I guess you could say I came over here without thinking it through. I knew you were in New York City, but I decided to come anyway and wait for you in person."

Janeway leaned the wet umbrella against the wall, noticing the water that was dripping from his clothing onto the floor. "You need to get out of those wet things. There's a bedroom with a private bath just down that hallway. Phoebe's husband usually leaves a robe in there that you can use. When you've dried off, bring your wet clothes to the kitchen and I'll throw them in the 'fresher."

"I'll no doubt find you drinking coffee."

She smiled. "What else? I've got to do something to counteract the kanar."

She watched him disappear into the guest room and then hurried to the kitchen, glancing briefly into her study where she could see the "message waiting" light flashing on her computer console. The reason for his visit had to be something in the Quarran data. Her already pounding headache worsened as he appeared wearing the robe and carrying his wet clothes wrapped in a towel. There was a time, she realized, that she would have fantasized about snuggling into that robe for a much-needed nap.

"I'll take those." She took the bundle and gestured at the pot of coffee she'd replicated. "Help yourself to some coffee or replicate whatever you want."

"Coffee will do."

She made short work of the clothes and returned to her half-empty mug with a groan of relief, taking a deep drink before she looked up at him for an explanation. She hoped he couldn't tell that she was feeling more than a little queasy; her stomach felt as if she'd swallowed a tape worm. "It's always a pleasure to see you, Chakotay."

"But what the hell am I doing here, right?" His voice was stern, for the first time betraying the anger that simmered beneath the calm surface for the last few months. "I assure you I'm not here for fun."

Janeway stiffened as the friendly warmth of friendship turned to a chill. "Well, now that you mention it, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm here because I couldn't find the doctor and decompile his program in revenge."

Her stomach rolled over in a very unpleasant fashion. "The doctor?"

"It seems he's decided that we should review our Quarran logs together. I need your command codes to get to my information, and I'm betting you need mine to get to yours."

"You could've just contacted me for those, Chakotay. You didn't have to come in person."

Chakotay shook his head. "It calls for your thumbprint, too."

"He never gives up," she agreed, refilling her mug and then heading for her computer in the adjoining room. "The sooner we get the information to download, the sooner we can get all of this behind us."

"Aren't you interested in what happened on Quarra?" he asked as he followed her into the study.

She paused to think, and then pulled the chair out from the desk for him. "I think the word would be apprehensive more than interested."

"I feel the same way."

"I imagine the doctor was hoping we'd talk about what happened, don't you? He's such an optimist." She gave him an apologetic grin, wondering if they could revisit the whole situation again without completely destroying what remained of their friendship. "But, honestly, Chakotay, I feel terrible right now. I think something in the kanar has disagreed with me."

"You aren't the first human to have that reaction." He sat down at the desk and began to call up his personal commlink while Janeway stood beside him, unconsciously resting her left hand on his shoulder. She averted her eyes while he entered his codes and pressed his thumb against the appropriate square on the screen. "Your turn," he said, pushing back from the screen.

Janeway leaned forward as she tapped the appropriate keys and pressed her thumb against the screen, swallowing back the bile that rose to her throat. She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "There. Now you can store the data and look at it when you get home."

He pulled an isolinear chip from the robe's pocket and slid it into the memory slot. "Let's make sure you can get to your logs before I leave."

"Good idea."

He frowned when he noticed that the data was not being downloaded. "Have you been having trouble with this memory port?"

"No, I haven't. Maybe you have to open the file before you can download it."

"That's worth a try." Grumbling under his breath, Chakotay pulled up the file. "I swear, Kathryn, the doctor is simply getting too big for his britches."

"You're right. I may have to do some holographic ego trimming. There, the program is active now. You should be able to store it."

Before Chakotay could enter the appropriate command, the program started up, and the EMH appeared on the screen with a brief announcement about the material they were about to receive--where it had come from and why it was finally being released. Chakotay tapped a dozen different keys to no effect. "I'm locked out."

"Each message is specially prepared for its recipient," the doctor concluded. "If you have any questions or concerns after reviewing this data, be sure to contact me or your counselor."

"Reboot the hard drive," Janeway suggested.

Chakotay sat back in frustration. "I think we're stuck with watching this."

Of all the people Janeway wanted to avoid sharing this experience with, Chakotay was number one on the list. She pushed back the panic that threatened to overwhelm her and was about to suggest severing the power connection when the program came online. It was not at all what either of them had expected. Instead of an index of log entries and files, it was an active program that had been carefully designed by the doctor.

_At first, the screen was filled with a compelling photograph of a relaxed and beautiful Kathryn Janeway. Her hair was brushed loose, curling on her shoulders and around her face, and her eyes looked into the lens with a direct and open expression that was both sensual and restrained. After a moment, it was replaced by a second, then a third photo, obviously a series of shots taken by someone who had made a study of her face. _

_In the midst of the pictures came a narration in Chakotay's voice: "I never believed in love at first sight until I saw Kathryn and fell in love with her before we even exchanged a word of greeting. She walked into the bar across from the power plant and suddenly I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't see anything but her face as she smiled at me. I was in a trance when I delivered her usual drink to her table and spent the next three hours talking to her, oblivious to the world around me. Even now, weeks later, I count the hours until I can see her again." _

_The photos were followed by a short video of Chakotay at the beach, building a sand castle with the help of Naomi Wildman. His skin was golden brown, making his smile almost blinding white in the sunlight. At first, the only sounds were of the sea and his and Naomi's voices as they discussed the size and arrangement of the castle, but he frequently looked up at the camera with a smile, at which time Kathryn, who was behind the lens, threw suggestions their way. _

_Then her voice, from a journal: "Tall. Dark. Handsome. That's what all women claim to be looking for, but Chakotay is so much more than that. Intelligent. Wise. Kind. Insightful. I trusted him instantly, without hesitation, and I knew I could tell him my deepest, most personal secrets without fear of judgment or blame. I never get tired of his company. Never." A brief pause, followed by a chuckle. "Oh, and sexy as hell. Did I mention how sexy he is? I melt every time he touches me." _

Chakotay and Kathryn Janeway remained as still as statues as they watched their missing lives unfold in front of them. He was unaware of his surroundings, as if everything else in the universe had simply faded into oblivion. She struggled to keep her composure as the world began to lose its cohesion, her head pounding with a growing headache.

_These first two longer vignettes were followed by a dozen more short ones, showing them eating together as a couple, dancing at the bar, working to help Tom and B'Elanna paint their new apartment, attending a picnic with many of the Voyager crew, always together, and nearly always side by side. _

_Then came their wedding--a simple ceremony that took place at the office of the local justice of the peace. Kathryn wore a pale yellow dress that matched Chakotay's shirt, and their only attendants were Tom and B'Elanna and the Wildmans. Samantha took a video of the event while Naomi whirled into and out of the picture in a dance of innocent joy. _

_Once the ceremony ended, the newlyweds stepped out of the courthouse into sunlight, their faces beaming with happiness. From Kathryn's log, they heard: "I can't wait to be his wife and know that we'll be together forever. I don't want to spend another day without him." And from Chakotay's: "I don't just love her; she's my soul mate. Nothing can come between us--we know each other too well, love each other too deeply. We want to start a family right away; I hope it's a girl who looks just like her." _

_This moment of triumph ended abruptly and was replaced by the familiar face of Admiral Kathryn Janeway, their savior from the future. She spoke directly into the camera, tears shimmering in her eyes. "I've told the doctor to use this short clip only if you two refuse to listen to reason, only if Chakotay is too hurt and proud to ask the captain to reconsider her decision about not carrying the baby and only if the captain is too worried about disrupting the developing relationship between Chakotay and Seven to speak up. You both need to remember that there is an innocent child at stake here, a child that, in my timeline, was so damaged by the maturation chamber that she never spoke a word and only lived to be three years old. Watch this, both of you, swallow your pride, and do the right thing." _

_The screen was suddenly filled with the face of a beautiful two-year-old girl who was sitting in the lap of an adult. She had expressive brown eyes, long brown hair, and creamy skin, but she refused to smile in spite of the doctor's cajoling from behind the camera. Then Chakotay, who was holding her, jostled her slightly on his knee and said, "C'mon, Taya, smile for the doctor. You know he won't give up until you do." _

_At first, the little girl gazed back at her father from the corner of her eye, a saucy, yet familiar half-grin on her face, but then she relented and gave the camera a brilliant smile accompanied by the musical trill of a child's laughter. The screen froze on that perfect smile. Although she had her father's coloring, she was the spitting image of her mother--Kathryn Janeway. _

The room was silent as the ten-minute program came to an end. Chakotay stared at the child's face that remained on the screen, oblivious to his surroundings as he studied her eyes, her smile, her dimples, as he picked up on the unique blending of his face and Kathryn's. Finally, he took a breath and leaned back in the desk chair.

"Taya," he whispered, his heart in his throat. "A little girl, Kathryn. Our baby's a girl."

When she didn't answer, Chakotay turned to find her slumped unconscious on the floor beside him.

**Later that night**

From within a red haze, Kathryn Janeway heard her mother's voice. She focused upon the familiar tones, and even though she couldn't understand the words, she found comfort in knowing that Gretchen was with her, whether in a dream or real life. She enjoyed the musical rhythm of the words, spoken softly nearby, and the deeper answering timbre of a human male. For a moment, she thought she was listening to her father, but then she realized that the man speaking to her mother was Voyager's EMH. She groaned softly at the wave of disappointment that engulfed her.

"Katie?" Her mother hovered over the biobed. "Doctor, is she waking up?"

"She can hear our voices," he replied. She heard a tricorder being flipped open. "I'm not sure she understands our words, though."

"Darling, something you ate at the Cardassian reception made you sick," Gretchen explained. Kathryn felt her mother's cool hand stroking her forehead.

"Severe anaphylactic shock," the doctor corrected her, snapping the tricorder shut again. "Many humans lack an essential enzyme needed to neutralize the toxin in the clanna root that's used to thicken the zabu stew. Federation chefs use a replicated root that leaves out the enzyme, but this chef wanted to be authentic. Little did he know that his carelessness could kill humans who are severely allergic to clanna root."

"I can't believe a professional chef would be so careless," Gretchen exclaimed, her voice rising with surprise.

"As am I, although a reaction this serious is extremely rare. Luckily, she arrived at the clinic in time."

Janeway groaned again. Gretchen leaned over her. "Kathryn? Can you hear me?"

When the doctor mentioned Zabu stew, Janeway remembered tasting the acrid blue and white goo and experienced a renewed wave of nausea. She couldn't have eaten more than a teaspoon or two of the concoction, and yet the pungent flavor seemed to linger on her tongue.

"This will help." The doctor pressed a hypospray against her neck, and she felt instantaneous relief. "It's lucky she was with the commander when she passed out."

The mention of Chakotay brought to mind a child's face with laughing eyes and dimples, a face that seemed to smile at her from a vague memory or half-forgotten dream. Janeway struggled to wake up and ask who the girl had been, but the drug was too powerful and pulled her back into oblivion.

Later, her full memory of the Admiral's message came back to her. Although the doctor claimed that she'd passed out from the effects of the Cardassian toxin, Janeway knew that it had been Taya's dimpled smile that had pushed her over the edge. She could still see the little girl's face every time she closed her eyes.

The doctor apologized for forcing her to view the pictures of her daughter without proper preparation, and Janeway graciously forgave him, knowing his heart had been in the right place. He prescribed a week's rest, and so, after spending two days in the hospital, she returned to her apartment where she slept for twenty-four hours straight.

Her mother had coffee waiting when Kathryn finally emerged from her bedroom.

"It's fresh," Gretchen told her as she handed over a large steaming mug, "I didn't start this pot until I heard you in the shower."

"After the concoctions I drank on Voyager, Mom, I'll never complain about bad coffee again." She took a long sip and then noticed the lovely breakfast her mother had prepared--fresh fruit, juice, croissants with fresh butter, and her own homemade strawberry-rhubarb jam. "Oh, this looks wonderful."

Gretchen watched with great satisfaction as her daughter tore a croissant in half, slathered it with butter and jam, and took a huge bite. "I'll fix you an omelet, if you'd like."

"No thanks, Mom. I'd rather just eat a dozen of these and finish the pot of coffee."

"Suit yourself. I'm just thrilled that you're awake and eating something."

"I'm starved." Janeway slowly buttered another croissant as she realized how long she'd been asleep. "I can't believe you stayed here for an entire day and night, waiting for me to wake up."

"Of course, I waited here, darling. What else would I do? If you can't count on your mother, who can you count on?"

The sweet, flaky bread turned to sawdust in Janeway's mouth and tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of the image of her own daughter's smiling face. "Oh, God."

Her mother reacted with typical maternal compassion. "Oh, Katie, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick again?"

Kathryn shook her head and pushed back from the table, anxious to be alone and away from food. "I can't talk about it, Mom."

"Is it something from Voyager?" her mom asked, following her into the living room. "Is it classified?"

"No, it's just something I can't bear to talk about." She flopped onto the sofa, her arm across her eyes. "I'm just too upset, Mom."

"It's personal matter, then." Gretchen, who had followed her daughter from the kitchen, took a seat on the coffee table so that she could continue the conversation. "You know you can tell me anything, Kathryn, and I won't breathe a word to anyone else."

Kathryn shifted on the sofa so that she was lying on her side. She studied her mother's face, remembering all the times she'd cried on her shoulder and told her deepest, darkest secrets, and how her mother knew just what to say or just what to do to make everything better. If only her mother could solve this problem. "I guess that's what mothers do--good mothers, anyway. They put their children first and sacrifice their own dreams."

"Is this about motherhood, Katie? Are you worried that it's too late for you to be a mother?"

All at once, almost without Kathryn's volition, the story of her captivity on Quarra began spill out. Gretchen listened in silent torture as she heard of Kathryn's impossible dilemma and her ultimate decision to terminate her maternal rights. By the time the story ended, both women sat on the sofa holding each other as they cried.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry this happened to you."

"It's been hard, Mom, to put aside what I want to do in favor of what I have to do."

"You said that the embryo is in stasis, right? So it isn't too late for you to carry the child to term."

"I could do that except that I terminated my parental rights."

"You did that while you were still in the Delta Quadrant, but now that you're home, you wouldn't make the same decision, would you?"

"I don't know."

Gretchen frowned. "You don't know if you would carry a baby that needs you, and only you, if it is to have a chance for a normal life?"

"Well, when you put it that way--"

"What other way can I put it?" She studied her daughter's profile and gently pushed her hair away from her face and behind her ear. "You aren't sounding like my girl. She would do anything to preserve a life, even one that isn't her own flesh and blood. So tell me what's really the matter, okay?"

Kathryn laughed and glanced briefly at her mother. "Will I ever be able to get something past you?"

"Probably not." She smiled, but when her daughter remained silent, she said, "It can't be the baby. She's your baby, no matter how she was conceived or who the father was, and I know that you'd accept and love her. So, I'm guessing that you must be upset about the father."

Kathryn groaned with irritation. "Chakotay is a fine Starfleet officer and a good friend. I couldn't choose a better man to be the father of my baby."

"All right." Gretchen nodded. "But having a baby like this, without being married, doesn't really fit your expectations, does it?"

Kathryn stood up and walked to the window where she stood contemplating the slow rain that was falling. "I always thought I'd be married to my child's father, Mom, and that we'd all live together in the same house--the way I was raised."

"Katie, I know how much you've dreamed of having that, but you know as well as I do that life doesn't always work out the way we want it to. It seems to me that you have a chance to have part of your dream come true thanks to this baby." Kathryn didn't answer, but simply stared out the window into the distance.

Like most mothers, Gretchen felt her children's pain as if it was her own, and she knew what Kathryn was thinking about--recalling her first fiancé, Justin, who had been brutally taken from her before they could even begin a life together, and also Mark, whom she'd lost as a result of her exile in the Delta Quadrant. Kathryn knew about life's unfairness better than anyone, and after a period of grieving, she usually stopped feeling sorry for herself and made the best of it. She just had to give herself permission to carry on.

"Katie, does Chakotay accept what's happened? Does he intend to participate in the baby's life?"

"Chakotay's thrilled about the baby," she replied softly, "and he'll be a wonderful father, but he's now involved with someone else, someone very dear to me, so--." Her voice trailed off.

"Hmph." Gretchen let her daughter retreat into own her thoughts while she got up and fetched more coffee and a plate of food from the kitchen. She fussed with putting away the dirty dishes as she went over Kathryn's story again and tried not to get too excited about the prospect of an unborn granddaughter. Then a thought struck her--Kathryn had married Chakotay on Quarra, and she would only marry a man she loved. While she'd claimed that the she and the woman on Quarra had nothing in common, she also seemed terribly upset that Chakotay was involved with someone else.

Was it possible, Gretchen wondered, that she and the woman on Quarra had more in common than she was ready to admit?

She returned to the living room and put an arm around her daughter's shoulder. "Katie, the problem is that you're in love with Chakotay, isn't it? You've dreamed of the two of you being together and having a family."

Kathryn leaned against her mother with a barely repressed groan. "I would never fall in love with my first officer, Mother. I just wouldn't let it happen."

Gretchen held her closer, recognizing her daughter's usual habit of hiding behind her Starfleet facade. "That was the captain speaking. I thought I was talking to my Katie."

Her daughter looked up at her with tears streaming from her eyes. "I can't be in love with him, Mom. I can't have his child this way if I love him. How can I have his baby, and not have him?"

"Oh, Katie," her mother whispered, pulling her into a fierce embrace, her heart breaking for her daughter's pain. "We'll have to find a way."

After witnessing Janeway's brush with death, Chakotay had disappeared. He'd called for emergency medical help and had kept her alive until the rescue personnel had arrived, but then he'd simply faded into the shadows. No one, not even Seven of Nine, had seen him since.

Janeway used some of her recovery time to pour over the logs and records she'd made on Quarra. It was obvious that the Kathryn Janeway who'd written those logs had been completely and passionately in love. The attraction had been immediate, and the consummation had quickly followed. They'd spent the night together after just three dates and only five days after their first meeting, and they'd apparently never regretted their quick decision to be together. She'd never sounded so happy, never in all her life.

While Janeway couldn't imagine committing to anyone so quickly and completely, she had to admit that the woman who wrote those logs was very much like her Voyager counterpart, in both interests and attitude. She'd worked hard at her job at the power plant and had spent much of her free time researching the technology so that she could understand the system and begin to make suggestions to improve its design. She'd reached out to the other humans on Quarra with the deliberate intent of creating a community among them. And she'd grabbed at her chance for happiness with Chakotay, anxious to put down roots and start a family with a man who seemed to fulfill her every dream of manliness.

Janeway imagined that Chakotay's logs mirrored her own. She'd blushed when she read how she had brought about their first night together--by pulling away from his chaste embrace on her sofa and quickly and deliberately removing her sweater as his eyes nearly popped out of his head. She could only assume that he'd been delighted with her open and passionate nature, since he'd married her and fathered her child, but she wondered how she would react when, and if, he ever surfaced from his seclusion now that they were on Earth.

She had no doubt that he would eventually appear at her door. Wherever he was and whatever he was doing, Chakotay was not going to let her evade him much longer, and she wasn't sure how she would answer the elemental question he would ask: Isn't this exactly what would have happened between them if the Starfleet/Maquis animosity, the demands of commanding Voyager, and the overriding need to put the crew first hadn't forced them to go against their own secret wishes and desires?

And then there would be the inevitable second question: Shouldn't they acknowledge and accept this unborn child?

The next day, she awoke from a late afternoon nap on her sofa to find a familiar figure leaning against the door frame.

"You." Her voice sounded rusty, and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Chakotay?"

"I let myself in. Please don't ask me to leave."

She lay back on the sofa, draping an arm over her eyes and putting aside the niceties. "Let's get this over with."

"All right. After we watched the admiral's version of our life on Quarra, you died in my arms, and I nearly lost my mind. It happened once before, and watching you die twice was simply more than I could take."

"I didn't die, Chakotay, either time."

"Oh, yes, you did. Both times." He shivered and crossed his arms over his chest. "This time, your face was as white as chalk. Your lips were blue. And your eyes were open, fixed and dilated. You died. I watched you."

"All evidence to the contrary. I'm very much alive, as you can see."

"Don't belittle what I went through, Kathryn. The doctor says that if you'd arrived at the clinic one minute later, you would have been gone for good. I keep thinking, what if you'd been alone? What if I hadn't come to your house so I could gain access to the Quarran files?"

"But I wasn't alone, Chakotay. You were there." She raised herself up on an elbow to look at him. "Don't borrow trouble by imagining unsuccessful scenarios."

"Kathryn, that's not the point."

She fell back. "Make your point, then, for God's sake."

"My point is this—seeing you die forced me to rethink our recent past, and it made me wonder why we've let what happened on Quarra come between us."

"What are you talking about? How can something we don't even remember come between us?"

He sat down on the chair that was positioned near the sofa. "Even though we don't remember it, we know we were married and that we decided to have a baby. Ever since we found out about the pregnancy, you've been withdrawn from me and unwilling to discuss any of it."

"The problem wasn't the pregnancy. The problem was that as Voyager's captain, I refused to go through with the pregnancy, remember?" She turned her face away from him, studying the weave of the sofa's back cushion. "I gave up my rights to the baby. I knew at the time that my decision was permanent, and I'm not asking anyone to give me a second chance."

"Why not?" He waited for an answer a few moments before continuing. "Why haven't you asked me to let you reconsider your decision?"

"I have my reasons."

"Do you mind if I ask you to tell me what they are? After all, it's our baby we're talking about."

"You know why. There weren't enough hours in a day for me to be Voyager's captain and a mother, too, not if I hoped to do either job well."

He nodded, sitting back in the chair. "Those were your reasons while we were still on the ship, but, you aren't the captain anymore. We're home safe and sound, and the embryo is still in stasis."

She shifted to look at him, "You're point?"

"Now you have time to be her mother."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It is simple, Kathryn. She's your baby."

"I wish you'd stop saying that. She belongs to that woman on Quarra, the one who was free to love you." Janeway took a ragged breath and closed her eyes. She wanted to tell him how hard it would be for her to be the mother of his child but not the woman in his life. She wanted to tell him that having his child was only half of her dream, and not even the better half. But, she couldn't tell him any of that. She'd pushed him away, and now he was with the one person in the universe she could not bring herself to hurt. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at him. "We're not just talking about eight months of pregnancy and childbirth, but a lifetime of responsibility. Don't you understand that having a baby means that we'll be tied to each other for the rest of our lives?"

"Of course, I understand that." He leaned toward her, resting his arms on his knees. "Are you implying that Taya is going to be a burden and never a blessing?"

She frowned, shaking her head in defiance. "What about Seven of Nine? Won't she feel threatened by your having another woman, and eventually two women, interfering in your life?"

"Seven has worked hard to perfect the maturation chamber for Taya. She's a compassionate and understanding person beneath the frosty Borg exterior, a fact you know better than anyone."

"Does she understand that I'll be the baby's mother? Does she realize that I might get in the way." She sat up, pushing her tangled hair out of her face.

"'Get in the way' of what?"

"I might become a problem between you and Seven." She refused to look up at his face. "Not that I would never want to do that."

"I think that's our problem, Kathryn, not yours. Suffice it to say that I won't let that happen."

"So you say, but I'm not convinced that the reality of the situation has sunk in."

"I'm not sure you understand the reality of the situation, Kathryn." He gripped his hands together and studied them. "You see, Seven of Nine can't have children."

She stared at him. "I thought--. The doctor said that with time, she could have a baby."

"He has since changed his mind. That's why this child is important to both of us. It's quite possibly the only child we'll ever have, and we want to be there for her."

Janeway lay back down and stared blindly at the ceiling. "She won't belong to you and Seven. She'll be yours and mine. Ours. Seven will be a step-parent."

"We understand that. I'm assuming that you'll have custody of her most of the time, and I know that Seven will always respect the fact that you're the baby's mother."

Janeway rubbed her temples. "The situation is just too complex to take seriously."

"Complex because we aren't together as a married couple?"

Janeway could feel a blush crawling up her neck. "That's part of it. I never thought I'd raise a child with someone who's just a friend. I mean, I always thought the man who fathered my children would be my husband."

"I was your husband when I fathered this child."

"Well, yes, I know, but I meant after the conception, too."

He shrugged and gave her a dismal look. "I feel the same way. I expected to be married to my child's mother, or at least be in a serious, committed relationship with her." He studied his hands again, and the tension between them became almost unbearable. "I guess you've had a chance to review the records from Quarra."

Because of the passionate and explicit material she'd read about their courtship and marriage, Janeway found it impossible to look him in the eye. She knew what details her logs and pictures revealed about their torrid romance, and she imagined that his were just as unambiguous as hers had been. Somehow, she kept her voice calm, "I've gone through the logs and records."

"It would seem that we--," he paused, considering the best term to use, "we 'became involved' with each other very quickly."

"Very quickly." She stood up and walked to the window, grateful to have the expression on her face hidden from him. "It's out of character for me to commit to a relationship that fast. It makes me think that I wasn't my real self."

"So you've said." Chakotay had a determined expression on his face. "But I'm not sure you're right."

She stiffened slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Who says we weren't still basically the same people? Maybe the Quarran changes simply removed some artificial reticence that kept us from acknowledging and acting on our mutual attraction to each other."

"What 'artificial reticence' are you talking about?"

"Anything that kept us from facing the truth. Starfleet protocol. The adversarial beginning to our partnership. Mark Johnson. The stress and strain of running a ship in hostile territory."

"The several women you sampled en route." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Kathryn knew she'd made a mistake. She'd let him know that his involvement with other women had bothered her, and so she added, lamely, "Not that it was any of my business."

"I'm glad you noticed. I noticed the men you sampled, too." He studied her carefully, and she knew she was fidgeting. "Why is it so hard for you to admit that we cared about each other? Are you afraid that Starfleet's 'protocol police' will put a blot on your record because you fell in love with your first officer?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He was beside her in an instant, trapping her at the window so that she had no choice but to look up at him. "This concern over hurting Seven's feelings and this worry about complicating our personal lives is just a cover-up. You want to pretend that we've never been anything more to each other than a captain and first officer, but our actions on Quarra bring that claim into serious doubt. You want to believe that what happened was an aberration, not our true feelings finally finding expression. And you want to punish me for moving on, for being involved with Seven of Nine and finding happiness in the Delta Quadrant while you were trapped being the captain." He stepped back, struggling to control his temper. "Well, find a way to take it out on me without hurting our innocent child in the process."

"Get away from me." She pushed him back farther, furious that he would dare allude to the attraction that had remained an unacknowledged secret throughout their seven years together. "I'm not trying to punish you for anything. I'm just trying to keep control over my life, that's all. I'm just trying to avoid being the latest piece of juicy gossip on the Voyager grape vine."

"Surely you know that the crew, your family, and the rest of the Federation will understand how the baby's conception came about. They won't blame us for breaking protocol, if that's your worry."

"Of course, I know that. I'm not ashamed that it happened, but they'll think that we were involved on Voyager, and we weren't."

"Believe me, Kathryn, I know that." He narrowed his eyes. "Does it bother you to be the mother of my child? Me, a rebel and Maquis criminal? If so, we can put our parental duties into a nice sterile legal document--a joint custody agreement--and have someone impartial serve as the baby's representative."

"As if we're getting a divorce?" In spite of her previous fury, tears of disappointment filled her eyes. For years she had listened to dozens of her colleagues argue with their former spouses over the details of such custody agreements, and she'd never known a child that wasn't put in the middle at one time or another, torn between the needs of the parents or grandparents, guilty for making one parent sad by choosing to be with the other. She had promised herself never to put her child through that kind of torment and yet here she was, doing just that. "Is that the best we can do?"

"I'm trying to find a solution here." Chakotay growled in frustration, throwing his hands in the air as he turned away from her. "You say you don't want to carry the baby because the two of us aren't involved in a traditional relationship. You bemoan the fact that Taya will be a complication as we try to find other people. You're unwilling to commit yourself emotionally to this pregnancy, reluctant to take on the responsibilities of being a mother, and unenthusiastic about reducing our responsibilities to a clear impersonal written agreement." He turned to face her, his eyes flashing. "You tell me how we can do this, Kathryn! Tell me what we have to do to give our child a chance to be born healthy and live a long, happy life!"

To her complete embarrassment, Janeway burst into tears. "I don't know," she sobbed, drawing the last vowel out into a wail. "I don't know what to do, Chakotay. Damn the Quarrans for their meddling in our lives, for putting us in an impossible situation."

For a moment, Chakotay simply stared at her. He'd never seen Kathryn Janeway cry about anything and found the sight absolutely astonishing. But then he moved toward her, putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her to the sofa where she sobbed into his shoulder.

"I didn't mean to yell and make things worse," he soothed her, rubbing her back as she cried. "I know you're still feeling under the weather because of your illness, and God knows I'm just as frustrated by this situation as you are."

"I know you are," she mumbled, finally looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Do you have a handkerchief?"

He shifted slightly as he fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her, smiling as she noisily blew her nose. "I think it's time to really talk this through, don't you?"

"I guess so." Janeway pulled away from him, leaving her arm along the back of the sofa as she turned slightly toward him. "I mean, the situation involves both of us equally."

"And only us, Kathryn. No one else matters--not family or crew or Starfleet. Not Seven of Nine or anyone you might meet in the future."

"Okay." She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. "It's time to put our heads together and find a solution."

"I'm going to be brutally honest, Kathryn. I've spent a lot of time thinking about this since we saw the admiral's message a few days ago, and I'm still unable to resolve what's happened in my mind. Our beautiful child was the product of a relationship that never existed as far as we're concerned, but she's real, and she deserves a chance at life."

"Yes, I feel the same way." She rubbed her temple with her fingers. "She's an adorable child. I hate to admit how often or for how long I've stared at her picture, but she only reminds me of what I don't have—the chance to have a complete family with her."

"We have a strong friendship, Kathryn, based on years of working together." He sighed deeply and gave her an apologetic look. "When I realized that you were the mother of my child, I imagined that the solution to the virus problem would be so simple. I didn't think you would refuse to carry our baby once you knew about the complications we faced."

"I wanted to, Chakotay, believe me. But I'd already decided it was impossible."

"I just didn't understand, and I'm afraid I held it against you. I applied pressure when I should have respected your decision and backed away."

"You had no idea we'd be home in a matter of months. You were trying to do what you thought was best for the baby, and I knew that."

"Kathryn, I want you to rethink your decision now that the situation has changed. If you'll just be her mother, I know that Taya will bring us happiness and fulfillment."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "You'd let me do that? You'd let me be her mother?"

"She's your baby, too."

Kathryn buried her face in her hands as she struggled to regain control of her emotions. "And we would parent her together."

"I think we could do that. We have a few months to work out the details, and we have friends who have gone through similar arrangements. They can tell us about the mistakes we need to avoid, situations we can anticipate in advance."

"I won't do this halfway, Chakotay. If I'm going to carry this baby, then I'm going to be her mother, no questions asked."

"I wouldn't expect anything less. And I intend to be involved at every step of the way."

She turned to face him, still wavering. "And Seven is willing to accept this? She's willing to let you be connected to me this way and for us to share custody of the baby?"

"She knows how much I want this child. She loves me, and she loves you, too, Kathryn. She trusts us to do the right thing."

Janeway felt exhausted and disheartened, perhaps at the prospect of being a single parent, perhaps at the complications she knew would plague her personal life for the rest of her days. She gave him a brave smile. "I guess I'm going to experience motherhood."

"And all the joys that motherhood entails."

Janeway wilted slightly, suddenly feeling a little woozy. "I can't do it right away, Chakotay. I'll need time to regain my strength and find an assignment that will accommodate my pregnancy."

"Of course." He put an arm around her. "I guess that means no more space duty in the near future."

"I've had plenty of that, thank you very much." She closed her eyes a moment as she tried to regain her equilibrium. "I can't believe I'm still reeling from that Cardassian enzyme."

"They said it would take a few weeks."

"Well, you know I always try to beat the odds." At his smirk, she put a hand on his arm. "Do you want to be involved with the pregnancy? Listen to the heartbeat? Be there for the sonograms? Come into the delivery room as my birthing coach?"

"Would you mind if I did?"

"Of course not. She's your baby, too, and even if she wasn't, I'd be thrilled to have my best friend serve as my coach."

Chakotay looked away, his eyes filling with tears. "Kathryn, you have no idea how much this means to me. Except for my sister, Taya will be the only family I have."

"Oh, Chakotay," she answered, putting her arms around him and cradling his head on her shoulder. "There are many of us who consider you part of our families."

They sat in the gathering darkness with their arms around each other, each of them coming to terms with the new relationship they were about to forge. Kathryn imagined what the pregnancy would require of her and considered how drastically the rest of her life would be affected. She hoped that they could work out the demands of sharing custody of their daughter, and she promised herself that she would always put Taya first.

Chakotay took her hand and looked up at her with his heart in his eyes. "Thank you again."

"I should thank you—for giving me a chance to change my mind." She pulled away from him and patted his cheek. "I was worried about keeping in touch with you once we went our separate ways. I'm thinking Taya will keep us close over the years."

"I wonder if our parenting styles will be compatible."

"I guess we'll find out." Janeway stifled a yawn. "We should probably talk that through in the meantime."

"Speaking of time, what time is it?" Chakotay wondered, checking the clock. "Wow. I had no idea I'd been here this long. Seven will be wondering if I got lost." Chakotay studied her face, looking at her as if he would never see her again.

"Is something wrong?"

"Have you wondered, since looking at the Quarran records, whether things might have worked out differently for us? I mean, we seemed to be completely besotted with each other when we didn't have everything else to come between us."

"It was almost too good to be true, wasn't it?" she nodded. "I kept thinking that we were almost too perfectly matched."

Chakotay frowned. "What are you saying?"

"The Quarran doctors were experts at repressing memories that might create a problem in their workforce. Why couldn't they also accentuate tendencies that would keep the problematic members of the crew happy?" She watched his face as he tried to understand what she meant. "Think about it. A female captain and a male first officer? We were the two people most likely to have leadership potential, so why not do whatever is necessary to make us blissfully happy right where we were. They would have known about our close friendship and our unexplored attraction for each other."

"Kathryn, what a devious mind you have." He sat back and relaxed. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Maybe you aren't devious enough?" she laughed. "Maybe our being together was a dream, or a fantasy, that we both nurtured for awhile, and the Quarrans picked up on that dream to keep us happy."

"New Earth," he repeated, a sad look in his eyes. "You nurtured a fantasy, too?"

She smirked. "Are you kidding? You're a handsome devil, you know, and I'm only human.

"Oh, yeah," he said, giving her a dimpled grin. "I always forget that about you." At her look of mock irritation, he continued, "But, you have a point about the Quarrans. If the captain and first officer are blissfully married and expecting a baby, they wouldn't think to question why they were on Quarra or how they got there."

"Exactly." She sighed. "But, that doesn't lessen our responsibility to the baby. She's the most innocent victim of all."

They talked a few more minutes, deciding when she would inform the EMH of their plans and how they would coordinate the implantation of the embryo. Finally, when Chakotay realized that she was practically asleep on her feet, he gave her a fierce hug and left for home.

Janeway was so exhausted by the length and emotional nature of Chakotay's visit that she felt physically ill. Less than ten minutes after his departure, she crawled into bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Several hours later, at precisely two o'clock in the morning, Janeway's eyes opened and she sat straight up in bed.

"I can't be a mother this way!" she cried into the darkness, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can't!"

She tossed and turned until the first rays of the sun slanted into the room and fell on the small photo of Taya that she'd put on her bedside table. She rolled over and stared at the child's face as the barriers in her heart finally dissolved completely. The only things standing between her and her daughter were selfishness and petty disappointment.

She picked up the picture and gently touched the glass. "For you, Taya. I'll do this for you."

**Two days later**

The faculty offices at the academy were usually deserted during the early morning hours, but Kathryn Janeway knew that her former security chief made a habit of arriving before dawn. She found a comfortable seat in the department foyer and waited for his arrival, sending up a quiet thank you to whoever on the staff had left the coffee maker set on automatic the night before. She was on her second cup when Tuvok rounded the corner.

"Captain Janeway," he said, in a tone of voice that revealed no surprise at her sudden appearance. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I probably should have called first, but I came on the spur of the moment."

"I see you found the coffee," he intoned, raising his eyebrow as he walked past her toward his office. "Did you finish the pot?"

Janeway laughed as she warmed the coffee in her mug and then followed him down the short hallway to his office. "And people say Vulcans don't have a sense of humor. I left at least half the pot."

The Vulcan circled his desk and waited for Janeway to sit down before he took a seat. "You seem to be fully recovered from your recent illness."

"I'm better, but not back to normal yet."

"It's unfortunate that the Cardassian cook was so careless in his food preparation."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think it was deliberate." She took a long sip of her coffee. "Good thing I'm not paranoid."

The Vulcan looked at her expectantly, yet showed his usual patience with his human friend. "What is the human saying? 'Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you.'"

She smiled. "And your health? You've had no more signs of your illness?"

"None since I underwent the _fal-tor-voh_. But as you may recall, I must remain vigilant for signs of recurrence for the rest of my life." He folded his hands on his desk and waited for her to speak. All around them, the academy was preparing for a full day of classes, and the pulse of the building was beginning to speed up. They could hear the sound of other faculty members arriving for work in the outer office, and the sidewalks in the courtyard were filling with cadets.

Janeway leaned forward to place her empty mug on his desk, a brief expression of exasperation crossing her face. "Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here at such an early hour?"

"I assumed that you would tell me when you were ready."

"As if you can't guess what's troubling me."

Tuvok raised a brow. "Does it have something to do with the Quarran records that were released to the crew?"

"What else?" She slumped in the chair, propping her head on a fist. "You knew from the first that I was one of the mothers, didn't you?"

"I suspected as much, since I saw you and the commander together on the planet, but it wasn't confirmed until recently."

"Why didn't you warn me about the dangerous waters I was in?"

"What would you have had me say, Captain? You'd made it clear to the entire crew that you were unwilling to become involved with anyone as long as we were trapped in the Delta Quadrant. I had no reason to believe that you would reconsider that decision, especially not when this particular situation was forced upon you by the Quarran manipulation of your memory."

"But this situation involved the life of a baby. And my decision cost me my best friend."

"If you're referring to Commander Chakotay, then I must disagree. I believe the commander is still and will always be your friend. What you have lost is the potential for a more intimate relationship with him."

Janeway sat back in shock, tears burning in her eyes at his uncharacteristic and matter-of-fact invasion of her privacy. "A more intimate relationship?"

"Captain, have you forgotten that we've shared a mind meld since your sojourn on New Earth."

She felt a blush crawling up her neck. "I thought that Vulcans never delved into private thoughts during mind melds."

"We don't actively seek them out, but we are, nonetheless, aware of them. In any event, I haven't shared your private thoughts with anyone but you, so I haven't technically betrayed your privacy."

She gave him a level look, her previous irritation rapidly replaced by righteous indignation. "I don't deny that I was attracted to him, but I gave up on our being together, Tuvok, years ago."

"I disagree." The Vulcan, who was her oldest and most-trusted friend, never allowed her to dodge the truth, and as much as she resented having reality pointed out to her in unemotional terms, he knew that she depended on him to do just that. He also suspected that she had come to him for just that reason—to confront and accept the truth—and so he pushed on. "You may have consciously given up on the possibility of being with him, Captain, but your heart held out hope that our return to the Alpha Quadrant would result in an opportunity to explore a relationship."

She groaned and briefly hid her face in her hands. "Why would I hold onto a dream like that when it's detrimental to my own well-being?"

"Why, indeed. My observation has been that many humans persist in pursuing their heart's desire, even though doing so becomes a source of considerable pain."

"And you think that's what I've done."

The Vulcan arched an eyebrow at the challenge in her tone of voice. "Didn't you just admit that you'd given up on your future with the commander?"

With that comment, Janeway stood up and began to pace, back and forth in front of Tuvok's desk, trying to think of a way to broach the real reason for her presence in his office. Finally, she stopped, fists on her hips, and found him watching her with an expression of mild expectation. "I've decided to carry the baby."

"I'm not surprised. Knowing you as I do, I would expect you to do nothing less than to accept the child and remain involved in its upbringing."

"Even though Chakotay is now involved with Seven of Nine?"

The Vulcan studied her face, and Kathryn knew what he was going to say, even before he opened his mouth. "There is an ancient Vulcan saying—our destination changes as we choose our paths. Your own choices have brought you to this crisis, Captain."

"The Quarrans gave me no choice," she fumed as she brought her right fist into her left palm with an audible smack. "I wouldn't be in this predicament if it weren't for their interference in my life."

"True, but that was just the first step. Every step since your return from Quarra has been of your choosing." He paused to let that sink in. "You will accept the baby as your own."

"Tuvok, it's so much my own child that only I can carry it."

"And you are ready to form a blood bond with the commander?"

"A bond? You mean marriage?"

"I mean parenthood."

She sat down, her heart heavy in her chest. "Do I have a choice?"

"Probably not. Since you know what you must do, Captain, give yourself wholly to it. Perhaps this situation seems contrived and forced upon you, but I suggest that you put aside your reservations and embrace the opportunity to be a mother. After all, it's something you've always desired, and the father is not only willing to support you in raising the child, but he is someone you care for deeply."

"You mean that I've made my bed, so now I have to lie in it," she nodded with a sigh. "I guess it could be worse."

"Indeed, Captain. It could." He looked up to find a cadet hovering outside his office door. "Unless there are other issues you need to discuss, I have an appointment with a student."

"Oh, of course." She stood up, unconsciously smoothing her uniform. "I just stopped by on my way to talk to Seven of Nine."

"I wish you the best in this endeavor, Captain, and offer my counsel whenever you feel you need it. I look forward to meeting this special child."

Touched by his comment, Janeway blinked back tears. "You know, I'm looking forward to meeting this child, too."

**Six weeks later**

Voyager's EMH stood in the laboratory of the small Starfleet Clinic in Indianapolis while Janeway and Chakotay waited in an examination room next door. He hummed happily as he reviewed the records of Janeway's latest scans, checking one last time to be sure that her body had been adequately prepared to receive the embryo, and then turned to Seven of Nine, who stood beside him.

"The captain has been unusually cooperative during the tedious hormonal prelude to pregnancy. I'm hopeful she'll continue to submit to regular examinations during the next eight months."

"I had no idea the preparation of her body would be so intensive," Seven of Nine replied.

"Neither did she." He glanced toward the examination bay where Janeway and Chakotay waited. "If it were a simple task to carry a child, we would have built the maturation chamber easily."

"Or I could have carried it."

The EMH turned from his computer console and studied Seven's troubled expression. "Are you having second thoughts about this situation? If so, now is the time to raise your objections."

The former drone raised a brow in scorn. "And delay the birth of Chakotay's child indefinitely? Impossible."

"It wouldn't be an indefinite delay, just a few months so that you are both prepared for the demands being placed upon you."

She shook her head. "I've talked about this enough, Doctor, with Chakotay and the captain, and there's nothing more to be said. They assure me that we'll be able to handle the joint custody of the child, and I have no choice but to believe them."

"Neither of them would purposely hurt you."

"Not purposefully, no." She sighed and glanced past his shoulder toward the examination room. "But I've learned a great deal about emotions since you removed the Borg dampener, and I know that great pain can be inflicted by the most innocent and blameless actions."

The doctor turned away from her, observing Chakotay and Janeway talking in the next room as they awaited the beginning of the procedure. "Have they done something to upset you?"

"Yes, but not on Earth, and not on Voyager." At his look of confusion, she continued, "Like you, I saw them together as a couple on Quarra, and while they are unable to remember what their marriage was like, I find it impossible to forget."

"I understand," the doctor replied, his voice tinged with sympathy as Seven's confusing behavior during Voyager's last months came into focus. "Did your observations of their relationship have something to do with your decision to become involved with the commander?"

Seven glanced away. "I'd hoped to form a bond with him like the one he and the captain had on Quarra. But I'm beginning to understand that such a strong link is the exception rather than the rule."

"Like catching lightning in a bottle." The doctor put a comforting hand on her arm.

"I don't understand what you mean."

"I mean that what the captain and commander had on Quarra is extremely unusual, so rare that the captain thinks that it might have been enhanced by the Quarran's manipulation of their memories. In any event, 'love matches' like the one they had are the ideal that seldom occurs in the real world."

She gave him a level look. "And yet, I wonder whether they would be as happy together now, if they would only consider it a possibility."

"You underestimate yourself, Seven. Chakotay has chosen to be with you, after all."

"Only because the captain turned him down for seven years." She looked past the doctor into the treatment room where Chakotay stood beside Janeway's biobed. "Their friendship is unusually strong, and I can't help but think that they might be happy--."

"Stop it," the doctor interrupted her with a scowl. "Their friendship has not prevented some monumental arguments. At times, I wondered if they would speak to each other once their command partnership ended."

"Even so, the bond between them remains strong." She sighed and nodded toward his computer screen. "We should complete this procedure before they wonder what has become of us."

The doctor returned wearily to his work, the joy of the moment totally dashed by Seven's reluctance. "Give yourself time, Seven. After all, it's still a new relationship."

"And one that will be forever complicated by the child and her mother."

He glanced at her in despair. "She'll be a blessing, Seven. You'll see."

"I'm reserving judgment."

"Seven, I'm deeply troubled by your pessimism. It would help to talk to someone you trust about your feelings of ambivalence, if not Chakotay, then perhaps a trusted counselor, or even your old, reliable EMH."

She gave him a small smile. "I'll get on your calendar."

"Excellent!" He beamed at her as she gazed again at the couple in the sickbay, a discouraged look on her face.

"Do you have time tomorrow?" she whispered.

In the next room, Janeway and Chakotay were unaware of the gloomy conversation in the lab.

"Are you ready to do this?" Chakotay asked. He stood beside the biobed holding her hand, as he had done several times during the last two weeks as she'd been injected with hormones needed to prepare her body for the pregnancy. He'd been amazed at the amount of time and effort that had gone into the arrangements and with the captain's willingness to endure it all without a word of complaint.

"Would it make any difference whatsoever if I said no?" she replied with a small shake of her head.

"Probably not." Chakotay chuckled and squeezed her hand. "To be honest, I'm not sure I'm ready, either. After waiting so long, I can't believe that we're finally getting started."

She closed her eyes and thought about all she'd been through in the last six weeks. She could still see the barely repressed smile on Phoebe's face when she'd told her about her unplanned pregnancy, and had been relieved when their mother's barely-restrained excitement had prevented her sister from teasing her. She was even more grateful when her mother volunteered to explain how her pregnancy had come about to her aunts, uncles, and cousins.

She endured endless rounds of questioning from the admiralty as she'd negotiated for a job that would have both regular hours and could be accomplished from the comfort of her home, in case her physical condition or the baby's required it. While the crew was excited and supportive of the baby, Janeway dreaded the day that the extraordinary circumstances of her child's conception became public. However, there was nothing she could do about that except forge ahead and deal with the press whenever it became necessary.

She'd spent her free time finding a comfortable home near her family in Indiana. The large, sunny house had a sitting room just off of the master bedroom that would be perfect for the baby's first year and could be easily converted to a private office later on. Chakotay had already started making a cradle, and he had just shown her the plans he'd drawn for a baby bed, a changing table, and a rocking chair. "At this rate," she'd teased him, "I won't have to buy any furniture for the nursery at all. Do you do sofas?"

The large fenced yard would be perfect for the baby's outdoor play and for the dog that she intended to adopt as soon as possible. And, best of all, there was a separate basement apartment for the baby's nanny, Tal Celes, although her assignment wouldn't begin until the baby was born in about eight months' time.

"Going through your checklist again?" Chakotay guessed, interrupting her train of thought.

"'Prior planning prevents poor performance,'" she quoted, giving him a wry grin and thinking that he knew her too well. "I'm afraid I might have overlooked something."

"Well, now isn't the time to worry about it. And, after all, you aren't in this alone." He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. "I won't let you down."

She fought back tears as she looked up at the man who had stood beside her through thick and thin for the last seven years. Her heart nearly burst with a surge of affection and gratitude to the woman on Quarra who had chosen this man to love. Her dream of being with him on their return to the Alpha Quadrant wasn't turning out as she'd hoped, but she was grateful that they would remain close friends and share the incredible experience of rearing a child together. As had happened so often in her life, she looked for the silver lining and accepted what life brought her, putting the ache in her heart aside in favor of getting on with living.

"You know," she said, pausing to clear her throat, "I wouldn't consider having a baby like this with anyone but you."

"I feel exactly the same way," he whispered, tenderly brushing a tear from her cheek as he gave her a dimpled smile. "I have a feeling that our resentment and frustration over the Quarrans' interference in our lives is going to dissolve the first time we hold our little girl."

She grinned back at him, finding peace in the knowledge that she was doing the right thing. "Maybe so, but I'm not about to send them a thank you note."

Chakotay was still laughing when the doctor appeared in the doorway of the examining room with Seven of Nine close behind him. Seven stopped just inside the door, her eyes wide with alarm at the obvious intimacy the two parents shared, an intimacy that reminded her too much of what she'd seen between them on Quarra.

"Shall we begin?" the doctor asked as he breezed into the treatment room, his voice cheerful and confident.

Janeway gave Chakotay's hand a squeeze, never taking her eyes from his. "Let's do it."

The End


End file.
